


20xx tokyo galatea

by dreamsofdecadence



Category: Persona 5
Genre: Akechi Goro Lives, Denial of Feelings, F/M, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Falling In Love, Friends to Lovers, Persona 5 Spoilers, Persona 5: The Royal Spoilers, Pining, Slow Burn, Swearing, Underage Drinking
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-03
Updated: 2021-02-21
Packaged: 2021-03-06 20:48:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 48,040
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26275138
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dreamsofdecadence/pseuds/dreamsofdecadence
Summary: In an attempt to slow down the rate of love confessions he receives and divert the public's attention from the mental shutdowns and psychotic breakdowns, Akechi tries to find someone to play the role of his princess.Ayano is a quiet, boring, average student devoid of individuality and lacking any passions or dreams. She has never approached the Akechi Goro before, shows no interest in his celebrity status, and seems mature enough that he can imagine going on mandatory dates with her without feeling like gouging one of his eyes out.Most importantly, Akechi sees no risk of ever falling in love with such a dull, bland, unremarkable girl.
Relationships: Akechi Goro & Amamiya Ren, Akechi Goro & Kurusu Akira, Akechi Goro & Persona 5 Protagonist, Akechi Goro/Original Female Character(s), Akechi Goro/Reader
Comments: 88
Kudos: 116





	1. a prologue (Justice)

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome to another story where:  
>  1\. Akechi gets into a fake relationship for reasons of dubious validity because plot  
>  2\. Reader is "not like the other girls" and sees through Akechi's mask somehow when thousands of others could not because plot  
>    
>  Lord help me, I'm writing this in present tense and screwing everything up.  
>  The narration is going to be limited third person, alternating between Akechi's pov and Reader's pov (who has a name by the way). Current pov is indicated in the chapter title.  
>    
>  Enjoy.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Akechi gets an idea. It's not his best one ever.

Today’s Thursday the 21st of April, it’s the second week of school this year, and Akechi Goro is fucking done. He’s so done that simply opening his mailbox and seeing the pile of letters inside is making him want to shoot himself.

Despite all the precautions he takes every single day to go home as discreetly as he can, using different routes every day and sometimes even using the Metaverse as a temporary hideout, someone (presumably one of his craziest fangirls) managed to find out where he lives a while ago and proceeded to share the information on social media because clearly, it was the most intelligent thing to do in such circumstances.

While the post containing his address was eventually deleted and the culprit quite possibly banned, the damage was already done by then. Surely the nosy and the opportunistic have taken note of the address and are now relaying it between themselves, each posting it again in turn, keeping it available to the public as long as they can manage before getting suspended. Perhaps it would even turn into a new sport for those out there who have nothing better to do. Whatever the case, the fact is he has been receiving anonymous fan letters every day since then, sometimes to the point where it fills up the mailbox.

Akechi grabs all the contents of the mailbox, resigning himself to his fate, and climbs the stairs of the apartment complex up to the second floor. Retrieving his keys from his bag with his one free hand, he unlocks the door to his apartment at last.

Consider the statistics. There are about 127 million inhabitants in Japan, and we can estimate half are women. For simplicity’s sake, we’ll say around ten percent of all these women are teens. That makes at least a few million teenage girls. Easily influenced, impressionable teenage girls.

That’s a few million people who could decide to send him a letter any given day.

But well, those are only letters in the end. It’s easy to get rid of mere sheets of paper. All it takes is one trip through the shredder. However, letters aren’t the only inconvenience Akechi has to face, and there are inconveniences he cannot legally eliminate through the shredder. Namely, people.

Despite missing the first couple of days due to a mysterious case of psychotic breakdown he had to “solve”, he’s since then been able to attend school normally, giving him the worthless opportunity to adjust to his new class, which he wouldn’t be talking to for most of the year anyway. He thought it might be a nice change of scenery after his last job; he must have forgotten the swarms of fangirls waiting for him to come back on the school grounds.

In the past two weeks, he has received no less than three love confessions, all from girls to whom he hardly ever talked more than twice. Do recall, this is only the second week of school.

Akechi sighs heavily as he sinks down in his desk chair, dropping the bag to the ground and the letters next to him on the desk. Mechanically, he opens his laptop, deft fingers typing the password before brushing through his smooth hair.

He’s almost eager to receive another job from Shido.

Akechi recalls his last interview a few days ago, idly tapping his gloved fingers on his laptop’s keyboard. The host asked about his non-existent love life on behalf of his fans, all eager to know if the Detective Prince has found himself a princess already. Ever smiling, he replied that he’s too invested in his detective work to think about dating anyone, because his work is his absolute priority, and besides he wouldn’t be able to make them happy with his current schedule. He hoped his fangirls would stop pursuing him after hearing that, but it would seem he overestimated the average intellect of his fanbase as his words fell on deaf ears. It’s as if the girls all think they have a chance with him as long as the position of his girlfriend is reported available.

And what if instead he replied he does have a princess in his heart? Would they have the decency to leave him alone at last? He wouldn’t even need to find a girlfriend; he could lie about it, refuse to give away any information about her “for her security”, pretend he’s being extremely careful when seeing her to avoid paparazzi revealing her identity. Would anyone call his bluff?

On the other hand, getting a real girlfriend could have its uses. Not only would it leave less room for doubt for his fans, but he could play her like a card, use her as a tool to divert the media’s and the public’s attention from the mental shutdowns and psychotic breakdowns. The less they think about the cases, the better for him if he doesn’t want anyone finding out the incidents are linked. He can’t allow anyone to uncover his crimes and reveal the farce he so carefully staged before he achieves his end goal. He can’t allow all his efforts towards revenge to go to waste after all these years.

In any case, while it wouldn’t be enough to scare away the most stubborn and delusional, it might just reduce the number of letters and confessions he has to deal with. And if it doesn’t help, he’d surely find a way to elegantly rid himself of the fill-in. He’d tell her that he was wrong to think he could juggle school, work, and a sentimental life on top of that; that he’s the only one to blame, not her; that he hopes she’ll find someone who will make her happier than he could ever hope to. And off you go.

Of course, he would have to go through the trouble of screening his entourage for the ideal partner; he couldn’t pick just anyone lest he’d end up in more trouble than it’s all worth. Some girls are just so obnoxious or so careless that no amount of careful planning or smooth talk could shield him from unwanted trouble. _Like a ticking bomb, ready to go off at any moment. A liability._ He’d have to pick a girl that knew her place, knew when to stay quiet; a girl that wouldn’t get jealous and wouldn’t take every possible chance to invade his private life. Where would he ever find such a girl?

As he loosens his tie, Akechi decides he can start with high school.


	2. rank 1 (Justice)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He decides she'll make a decent pawn—but it's not like he can choose between many pieces in his game.

This whole plan seemed like a better idea when he was tired; now, two weeks in, Akechi isn’t sure of what he’s doing anymore. To recap the situation quite simply, after sleuthing about the school during his free time there, he has finally found a candidate that so far fits his conditions. Yabusaki Ayano, 17 years old. A senior at Kosei just like him, good grades in both academics and sports, works at a flower shop after school; pretty, well-mannered and liked by her peers. A model student.

Well, she’s nothing special in Akechi’s eyes, he thinks as he tails her into the busy streets of Shinjuku. From afar she’s just another high school girl, no hint of individuality in her; beyond her grades, she doesn’t shine in any particular subject. If he hadn’t been looking for her, he would have never laid eyes on such an unremarkable girl; but there aren’t many girls who haven’t approached him yet at his school, and she fits the type he’s looking for better than any other girl. And after all, he only needs someone to play the part of his princess in the eyes of the public for a year or so, not a partner for life. She’d suffice, he told himself. But now, as he follows the unassuming girl into Kabukicho, trailing a large suitcase behind her, Akechi can’t help but second guess his choice of target. How could a young girl stroll so casually in Tokyo’s red-light district at 8 in the evening? _She’s a student, she can’t have the money to go_ there _as a customer, right? Does she work in some seedy club on top of her first job to pay for her education? No, that’s unthinkable…_

Akechi knows better than to judge at a first glance, and she doesn’t look like someone walking to work anyways, looking around at the flashy establishments around her, surrounded in an aura of innocence and guilelessness. Perhaps she just got lost on her way home. Really, really lost.

 _She’s definitely not working here,_ he tells himself as he watches a pair of young men approach her from the side of the street. Pullers-in. They’re only talking to her, but he figures he should discreetly get in hearing range of their conversation in case the men overstep their boundaries. Playing the knight in white armor and saving her from an uncomfortable situation could certainly make for a good first impression.

“—job we can offer you will pay much more than your current one! When you hear the details, you will surely want to quit your little job immediately!”

“I appreciate the offer, but I’m not really interested, so…”

“Come on, little miss! At least come inside for a drink and hear us out! I promise you the job doesn’t even involve anything shady!”

“Ah, no, I have to…”

When one of the guys snakes an arm around her back to guide her into the bar with a dumb smile, Akechi decides it’s a good time for him to step onto the stage. Clearing his throat as he walks up for the group, he manages to earn everyone’s attention. The man’s dumb smile falters at his arrival and he lets go of the girl.

“Is something the matter?” Akechi asks, his contempt disguised as a smile.

One of the two men is quick to reply before Ayano can say anything. “We were just discussing a job offer for the little miss! It’s a simple job that pays well…”

“I know your uniforms,” the second one says. “You’re students at Kosei, aren’t you? That’s why when I saw this lovely girl walking this way, I thought, since she’s attending such a prestigious high school, surely the fees must be expensive, right? Our boss is generous with students, you see, and…”

“Thank you, but I’m fine.” Ayano bows, her expression blank as ever.

“But think about it! You could buy gifts for your friends and family with the…”

“I think that’s quite enough.” Akechi intervenes again, signature smile plastered on his face. It’s hard being patient with guys like these. “She said she isn’t interested. You’ll have to find someone else to recruit.”

The second of the two men moves to protest, but his colleague, without a doubt more sensible, places a hand on his arm to silence him. “Ah, sorry to have bothered you then. We’ll still be here in case you change your mind, miss. Good evening to you two!”

Akechi leads Ayano away from the recruiters exchanging whispers, pulling her aside in a lit alley to talk to her. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to intrude, but I was worried something might happen to you. Are you alright?”

She considers the question for a moment, like she’s trying to make sense of it. “Yes, I am. Thank you.”

At the very least, she is capable of civil behavior. Akechi was worried she would throw herself at him in unbridled relief and admiration, squealing his name like another one of his brainless fangirls the second after he helped her get out of this pinch. Thankfully, if she’s aware of who she’s talking to right now—how could she not know?—she still remains calm and composed. _She’s scoring points._

“We haven’t really met before, have we? My name is Akechi. What’s yours?”

“It's Yabusaki. Honored to meet you.”

“Um… Yabusaki-san, if you’ll pardon my indiscretion… What are you doing all by yourself in such a place at night?” he asks as innocently as he can.

“I was just taking a walk before going home.” A pause, and she lowers her voice. “I initially thought exploring this famous district after nightfall would be an exciting experience, but I believe I got my daily dose of adrenaline, so I’ll just opt to head to the nearest station right away.”

Is she talking to herself?

“Would you like me to walk you there?” The nearest station is only a few minutes away and there is in truth no need for Akechi to accompany her on such a short distance; he offered only to maintain his chivalrous, princely image.

“Yeah,” she tentatively replies. “Thanks for offering, Akechi-san.”

“No problem. Shall we, then?”

They make their way to the station, and Akechi makes sure to walk slowly to prolong their time together, keeping Ayano engaged in small talk with him all the while. He even offers to pull the suitcase himself, which she politely declines. He hopes it will give her the impression that he is interested in her, and at the same time it allows him to gather more intel on her. However, he finds determining her type is proving more difficult that he had first expected due to how exceptionally bland Ayano seems to be, and before long they reach their destination without him having acquired any leads on how to effectively seduce the girl. Ayano stops and turn to him, ready to say goodbye, and Akechi is already thinking of how to orchestrate a second meeting outside of school, away from the watchful eyes of his peers. He can't move too aggressively on the first day, so asking for her phone number is out of the question. He’ll have to catch her on another one of her walks or at work.

“It was nice meeting you, Yabusaki-san. I hope we’ll meet again soon, maybe?”

A polite, neutral smile. “Yeah.”

“Be safe on your way home.”

“I will. See you.”

Standing there in front of the station, watching this blank puzzle of a girl enter the building, Akechi wonders if his meticulously crafted prince charming persona failed to enchant a lady for the first time in his life. But as she disappears into the station, she turns and gently waves a hand at him, a slight smile adorning her lips. At this distance, he can’t tell if it’s genuine, but perhaps not all hope is already lost.


	3. layer cake and vanilla tea (Justice)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Akechi gets precious holy free time. It sucks he recently found himself one more stupid way to spend it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 12 chapters in, I learnt/realised that Japanese high school students actually attend optional-but-actually-compulsory school on Saturdays. That's how you can tell I haven't actually played the game, because I think there is school on Saturdays in-game.  
>  Maybe one day I'll rewrite all the parts concerned by that for dear verisimilitude's sake, but for now, I invoke you readers' holy _Willing Suspension of Disbelief._

The next week, duty calls.

He’s so busy with the latest unfortunate psychotic incident he almost doesn’t find time to stalk an innocent schoolgirl through the city in between interviews and days spent investigating. However, he manages to free his Thursday and Friday of the following week by working efficiently, and he intends to make good use of these two days. Thursday, dinner with Prosecutor Niijima. A new sushi restaurant just opened in Kichijoji—the conveyor belt kind, sadly for him, but he’ll make this sacrifice. He knows maintaining work relationships is important. He reluctantly keeps Friday for Ayano. He's learned that on all other weekdays, she goes back to the school's dorms right after work, but on Fridays she spends her time walking around Tokyo alone before riding the train home. An odd pastime, but he kind of understands.

So Friday comes, and Akechi finds himself following Ayano again, this time through the wide streets of Shibuya. She’s still pulling her large suitcase behind her, as she does every Friday when she leaves Kosei High. She doesn’t seem to suspect his presence in the slightest, and Akechi catches himself thinking she would be an incredibly easy target for a murderer.

It seems she was allowed to leave work earlier than usual today, which is perfect for what he has in mind. It’s about 6:30 pm, the sun hasn’t set yet but the sky is already getting darker: one more reason not to waste any time. She’s walking at a comfortable pace, sometimes slowing down to look at store fronts, never lingering for long. Akechi calculates a path around the block; if he walks fast enough, he can catch her at the corner before she has a chance to make a turn and he loses her. So he turns left into a street, sliding between the bodies of careless teenagers and hasty businessmen, nearly running around the block until he reaches the corner. She’s still a few feet away from him, but he quickly eliminates the gap and passes her by in silence. Counting one, two, three steps, he turns around and calls out to her, his voice inquisitive, unsure. She stops and turns to him slowly, staring at him with unnerving dead fish eyes. Her brain might have a latency problem, he thinks, but it doesn’t stop him from smiling as he greets her.

“Oh, it’s you.”

“I didn’t expect a second chance meeting with you,” he says. “It’s quite a pleasant surprise.”

“Hm… Such an encounter does seem unlikely in this crowd indeed. Such events are enough to make one wonder if fate exists after all,” she mutters to herself in an odd intonation as she looks around, and Akechi’s certain there’s something wrong with her brain. _Seriously, what’s up with her?_

“Ah, are you by chance free right now? Would you like to hang out?”

She stares at him like she doesn’t understand the question and checks her phone. “Yeah, I have time,” she says after taking way too long deciding on an answer. _Must be latency,_ he reminds himself. “What would you like to do?”

“There’s this lovely little café just a few blocks from here. The atmosphere is very cozy. Would you like to come with me?”

She nods, so they get moving. Akechi wants to fast forward to the evening and just go home, be done with it all, but he forces himself to relax his own pace to match hers. The worst part, however, is undoubtedly having to make light conversation without running out of topics for later at the café. He settles for pointing out a few things he finds noteworthy enough, like items in the store fronts they pass, or people dressed a way that reminds him of something. He mentally curses Ayano for not helping him by initiating small talk herself. _Is she really so dull she has nothing at all to say?_ But his smile never falters regardless.

Eventually they reach the café and Akechi makes a point of holding the door for her. He’s found such an insignificant gesture to be oddly effective to seduce girls, but then again it’s probably mostly because of his celebrity status; something about a national idol like him being courteous to a generic person must feel quite nice for his desperate fans. Once inside, he picks a table as far from other patrons as he can and they sit down, his back to the others. Ayano immediately grabs the menu, looking almost nervous. Did it just dawn on her she’s having a moment one-on-one with _the_ Detective Prince? She looks completely focused on the document she holds; perhaps she’s unsure of what to have. Akechi decides it’s a good time to test something.

“The layer cake they make here is quite delicious,” he casually notes.

She looks up and seems relieved as she considers his words briefly, before placing the menu back on its holder. A waitress comes to take their order and Akechi goes first, ordering something disgustingly sweet with a cup of coffee. Ayano orders chocolate layer cake and vanilla-flavored tea. _Good._ He suppresses a smirk. _She listens to my suggestions._

The waitress leaves to relay their order and silence falls once again between the two students. For a few seconds, Akechi hopes she will ask him something, initiate a conversation herself, but it’s all in vain; she won’t say a thing. He’s forced to keep their conversation going alone.

“So, Yabusaki-san, how was your day?”

“Pretty good. I didn’t receive many customers today, so work was rather calm.”

“Where do you work?” He hates wasting his breath and having to ask when he already knows the answer is a minor pain in the ass, but it’s not like he can tell he’s been occasionally stalking her in the past few weeks.

“At a little flower shop, not too far from the school,” she says. “I picked it because it sounded like it involved less interactions with customers than other jobs.”

“So you don’t like interacting with people?”

“I can deal with it, I just prefer not having to.”

Akechi fakes a worried expression. “Could it be… am I actually intruding on your spare time? You should tell me if you want to be alone…”

“No, it’s fine. You’re fine.” The way she words it makes it sound like he’s special, yet she doesn’t know the first thing about him. It makes his inner self gag.

The waitress brings their snacks, and disappears after an enthusiastic “Enjoy!” Ayano gently taps her spoon on her cup of tea and the sound it makes, albeit not very loud, makes him want to throw the burning liquid on her pretty, dull face. Thankfully she quickly stops, as if feeling his murderous intent, and resumes the conversation.

“What about you, Akechi-san? How are you doing?”

“Well, with the latest case, I’ve had my hands quite full of paperwork, but it’s nothing unusual.”

“That doesn’t sound so bad.”

“What do you mean?” He keeps smiling even as he imagines stabbing his dessert fork into her pale little hand, the prongs sliding between bones, burying themselves into muscle, maybe piercing a vein. Would she lose her composure if he did? Would she scream in pain?

“I don’t know, I just assumed it’s the easiest part of the job. Filling paperwork.” She dips her own fork into her cake and takes a bite. “Compared to the interviews, the TV shows and all other public appearances… It must be a lot of work, constantly having to please others.”

 _You have no idea, little girl,_ he mentally sneers, but plays it cool on the outside. “Well, I don’t think much about that. After all, pleasing the audience isn’t really the point of detective work, wouldn’t you agree?” Of course, at this point, it’s more show business than detective work, but he’d never admit it out loud to anyone.

She hums again, thoughtful. “Perhaps I should have abstained from making such a degrading assumption about your work,” she mutters, and that odd intonation of hers is back. He hates it. If feels like she’s trying to sound more mature in front of him. Maybe it stems from a feeling of inferiority to him, Akechi muses to himself. He brings his focus back to the conversation, ready to brush off her concerns, perhaps even apologize if his reaction sounded aggressive for good measure; yet he finds she seems to have already shrugged it off herself. “By the way, you were right, the cake is really good,” she smiles.

“I’m glad you like it.” He flashes her his brightest smile yet in response.

They exchange a few words on banal things like school projects and homework until ten, perhaps twelve minutes after they’re both finished with their snacks and drinks. Akechi decides it’s an appropriate time to leave the café. He can’t stand doing this much longer today too, and he thinks he’s earned a break. He insists to pay the bill despite Ayano offering to split it and they exit the little shop. The first thing she does when her feet touch the pavement is check her phone. Akechi glances at his wristwatch in turn, finding it’s almost 7:30 pm. She probably wants to go home. He knows he does.

She looks at him wordlessly, like she’s waiting for him to say something. Like she always does.

“Thank you for giving me some of your time. I enjoyed myself a lot.”

She shakes her head. “No, I should be the one thanking you. I know you’re busy…”

“Well, it’s good to be able to relax sometimes too. I don’t usually get to spend time with people my age.”

She nods, and finally speaks the long-awaited words. “Well then… I’ll be heading home now.”

“Shall I walk with you to the station?”

She hums. “Okay.”

He once again offers to handle her suitcase, which she refuses again, and he’s honestly glad. He’s already pulling enough weight with her walking by his side, and if he has to spend time with a girl, he’d prefer her to take care of herself. On their way, he attempts a light-hearted joke, which coming from him usually sends girls into a fit of giggles. It has no such effect on Ayano, only getting a slight smile from her; and even then her smile looks distant. She doesn’t look completely present. Maybe she simply can’t believe she got to spend time with _the_ Akechi Goro.

Minutes pass as they walk, and to Akechi’s relief they finally reach Shibuya Station. “Oh, Yabusaki-san?”

She turns to him and hums.

“Would you like to exchange contact info? Maybe we could hang out again some other time.”

“Yeah.”

So they add one another to their contacts in silence. _She has an odd last name,_ he thinks as he reads the characters of her family name but says nothing of it. He watches her walk into the station, discreetly waving to each other, and when she’s finally out of sight he lets out a sigh. He’s finally free. Now he can go home, spend his evening alone in peace and not think of her for the next week.

_Thank God it ends._


	4. what's for dinner? (The Hanged Man)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ayano-chan comes home after another week of her heart-throbbing student life in Tokyo.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The lines are from Jean Anouilh's _Antigone_ , if anyone wants to know.  
>  A fun fact about Kodaira I learnt during my hours of "research" on Google Maps: there is a KFC not very far from the station.  
>  I wish there was a KFC where I live.

“Nanny dear, go away now. It’s not chilly, really. Summer’s here. Go and make us some coffee. Please, Nanny, I’d love some coffee. It would do me so much good.”

Ayano falls silent, raising her eyes to the roof of the train as the announcer calls her stop. Glancing around at the few other passengers in her car, she notices a middle-aged woman close to her look at her from the corner of her eyes with a worried look on her face. She must think poor Ayano is going crazy, muttering to herself words that barely make sense to anyone outside of her mind. But it’s a habit, a homecoming ritual, a way to pass the time as she rides the train home. She’s used to the confused looks she gets whenever someone listens. If they could see her on a stage, they’d understand.

She gets up from her seat with a sigh, sliding the strap of her bag over her shoulder. The train slows down as it nears the station. Ayano resumes her muttering, as low as she can, without looking at the other passengers waiting to get off. _Aren’t you well?_ “Of course I am. Just a little tired. I got up too early.” In truth, she doesn’t need to practice the lines anymore. She already knows most of them by heart. It’s only a small exercise to keep her memory from withering. The train finally stops and the doors open; she steps out. The others pass her, hurried, eager to go home to their families. Ayano walks leisurely.

When she steps out of Kodaira Station, the lungful of fresh air she inhales is like a tiny blessing. Her uniform isn’t enough to shield her from the cool breeze of an early May evening and she shivers. Checking her phone again, she finds it’s already past 8. She can’t flirt with the clock tonight. Her mother will be expecting her shortly. Her parents always get antsy whenever she stays out late, but today again, they’ll find their daughter has come back alive after another mysterious evening escapade. _That’s right, mom, dad, your child has survived another week in Tokyo._

Ayano wastes no more time in making her way to her home, which is a few minutes away from the station only. The streets of Kodaira are calm, peaceful in the night and the only sound setting the cadence of her walk is the tapping of her loafers’ heels on the pavement. The silence gives her the illusion of being alone in the world. Like standing on a stage at the end of a play, in front of an empty theater.

She ritually announces her presence as soon as she’s closed and locked the door behind her, mechanically taking off her shoes at the entrance before stepping in. As usual her mother is cooking dinner, but she’s not alone this evening. Ayano’s brother, Hiroshi, and his girlfriend are helping to set the table, making light conversation as they do so. As she appears at the living room’s threshold, they all pause what they’re doing to greet her.

“Welcome back,” her mother and brother say in unison. Hiroshi’s girlfriend bows, a shy smile on her lips.

“It’s been a while,” Ayano says, the remark directed towards her brother. He moved out of the family house a couple of years ago but never strayed far from the nest, and usually comes spend a weekend with his parents every month. Usually.

“Three months, I think?” he replies in a melodic voice as Ayano grabs her bag and climbs to her room.

Ayano doesn't care much for family, honestly. Her family is very aware of that, but they all have different reactions to her apparent emotional distance. Her mother is most pained, always trying her best to make her daughter happy, trying to reach out and understand her to no avail. Her father mostly doesn't talk to her much, but she does catch the occasional melancholic look he sometimes throws her way. Hiroshi remains pleasantly distant, yet casual. He always talks to Ayano like he has no expectations, no regrets. He gives her the space she needs and provides the background soundtrack to her life at home with his guitars.

(Her brother's girlfriend doesn't even try anymore. She probably thinks that if Ayano doesn't shower her relatives by blood in affection, she has absolutely no chance of bonding with the girl. Instead she just keeps a polite and pleasant attitude, but doesn't engage in conversation with her.)

As Ayano lazily steps down the stairs, having changed into more casual clothes, she hears keys turn into the main door’s lock, signifying the return of her very own traditional hardworking, breadwinning Japanese father. Home past 8 pm. Except he’s not Japanese, but an immigrant from France who settled here when he married her mother. Now he works hard and comes home late every day of the week, relentlessly pursuing the local values, but Ayano knows: no matter how hard he tries, he’ll never blend in, because he’s a _gaijin_. An outsider. It’s written between the soft strands of his medium brown hair, etched in the steel of his irises, painted all over his skin, and he’ll never escape it. And Ayano won’t either.

“I’m back.” He, too, indulges in the homecoming ritual, and so it happens again: a general “Welcome back!” erupts from the living room, thoughtless, automatic. Ayano joins in out of habit, though it’s lacking in energy and her brother’s voice covers hers effortlessly. She finishes climbing down the stairs, joining everyone else at the dining table. While her father and Hiroshi exchange banalities, Ayano smells miso soup and gets excited. Her mother always makes delicious Japanese food, and it might be the only good thing about her life as a _half._ Dinner is thus brought to the table and her busy mother finally sits down; then comes the traditional gesture of joining one’s hands together and saying “itadakimasu”. _Formalities really,_ Ayano thinks; but at least it means the beginning of the meal. The sooner it begins, the sooner it ends, the sooner she can go to her room and study. But also the sooner she can consume the delicious soup.

When Hiroshi is done telling his father about his trip to the United States, dinner talk returns to default, ordinary topics. “How was your day at work, honey?” her mother asks. So Mr. "Yabusaki" begins telling of his day, and complaining about work, and recalling the _gaijin_ comment of the day, all with a carefree smile on his face. He must know he will never really be part of Japan, but he doesn’t seem to mind. All the while, her brother’s girlfriend remains very silent, trying but failing to hide that she’s not the most comfortable in this house. Coming from a purely Japanese family, having dinner with a foreigner must be far from a familiar situation. Ayano doesn’t understand why the young woman is so unsettled and hesitant in front of her father, but such is life. There’s no helping it.

As the father’s tale ends, Mrs. Yabusaki’s eyes fall on Ayano, indicating her turn has come to report. “What about you, sweetie?”

“School was okay as usual.” A pause. “I was allowed to leave work early today so I took a walk through Shibuya.”

“Don’t you have friends to spend time with?” her brother asks.

“They usually either stay late at school for club activities or they have work, so I don’t really see them often.” She doesn’t mention her chance encounter with the high school detective. They’d all go crazy if they knew, and she doesn’t want to deal with that. It’s nothing worth mentioning anyway.

The others know they won’t get much more out of Ayano, so they move on to the next topic. To be honest, she wouldn't call her classmates “friends”, but at least they tolerate each other enough to work on group projects. Or rather, she tolerates them. They, on the other hand, seem to like Ayano just fine and she keeps wondering why. She thought it was obvious enough she was a loner, like there’s a sign on her head reading "No don't come talk to me" in big black letters, but oddly enough people keep approaching her and talking to her. Perhaps they feel like something is not quite right, something in her aura that’s different, and thus they all flock to her to figure out what it is. Ayano’s grateful she inherited most of her mother’s genes; coupled with the fact she bears her mother’s name, the other students she talks to don’t seem to realize she is a half. But after all, she spent years copying her Japanese classmates’ manners, working on her appearance and demeanor, all so it wouldn’t show, hoping the others would stop looking at her like an exotic animal at a circus.

Ayano decides she’s eaten enough and excuses herself. Her parents know she has low appetite and always let her leave the table first; she knows any leftovers will be waiting for her in the fridge in case she gets hungry while studying. After saying goodnight to everyone, she climbs back up into her room for the night. Her class has a social studies test coming up next week and she wants to be ready for it, like she’s always been. Entering her room, she finds the house’s cat Soba has elected her bed for napping. She feels moderately blessed. Sitting at her desk, she moves to lay her phone next to her but the screen lights up and shows she received a text. She absent-mindedly ties her hair up in a messy bun and unlocks her phone. The text is from Akechi.

_Akechi — Good evening, Yabusaki-san! I wanted to thank you again for giving me your time today. I hope we can hang out again soon._

This guy is a real mystery for sure. He’s one of the top students at her school and the most popular—hell, he’s famous all through Japan, and he still tries to talk to her despite the myriad of wiser things he could do instead. God, he tries so hard. Why would he? Maybe he needs something from her?

 _What do I even reply?_ she asks herself. She never learned to talk to a national idol.

_Thanks for making me discover that café. I had a good time too and I wouldn’t mind doing it again. Take care of yourself._

Perhaps it was too formal. It’s a shame really, because she sent it already.

Whatever he wants with her, Ayano selfishly hopes he’ll never contact her again and find himself another friend. She intends to graduate from high school without getting involved with anyone or in anything extra, without bringing more attention to herself than necessary.

Leaving her phone there, she sets about memorizing her social studies lesson.


	5. it takes one to know one (Justice)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Akechi actually manages to get her to talk about herself. It raises more questions.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I'm not sure your average Japanese girl would actually wear those choker tops in public, with the skin it shows.  
>  Maybe the straight off-shoulder cuts would be fine? I mean, they don't show cleavage _per se_.

It’s only a week before Akechi somehow manages to punch a huge hole in his planning. Saturday? Sunday? Empty. No Shido, no urgent detective work, no tests to study for. Nothing. A whole weekend of absolute freedom. He thinks he’s earned it, with how hard he’s been working so far. But as he wonders how he’s going to use his free time, he remembers the latest addition to his contacts. Ayano. He sighs, but accepts his fate; no matter how tedious, boring, time-consuming it may be, he always finishes what he starts. He will see it through.

The weekend comes and Akechi sits in his apartment, legs crossed, scheming. He knows Ayano doesn’t live in the middle of the metropolis like he does. She takes the train at the start and end of every week to travel to and leave Tokyo, but he doesn’t know exactly where she lives so he has no idea how long it takes her to ride to the city and back. He doesn’t want to look like an inconsiderate, egocentric asshole by asking her to come hang out with him in Tokyo for an hour or so if it takes her an hour to even get here in the first place. But then she probably wouldn’t stay so late in the city on Friday evenings if it took her that long to go home. And in any case, he could always ask her. It’s nearly 11 am, and Akechi hopes she’s away by now. If not… well, there are worst fates than waking up to a call from _the_ Akechi Goro, right?

He calls her, his leg bouncing restlessly. Thankfully she doesn’t take long to answer. _“Good morning, Akechi-san.”_ She sounds a bit out of breath. Exercising, maybe?

“Ah, good morning, Yabusaki-san! Is this a bad time?”

_“Not at all, I was just jogging a bit. What’s up?”_

“I was just wondering—I have the weekend free and I was wondering if you’d like to meet up this afternoon?”

_“Hm… Yeah, that sounds good. When and where should we meet?”_

“How about 2 pm? I can wait for you at the station, just tell me which one.”

_“2 pm is okay. Is Shinjuku Station alright for you?”_

“Of course! I’ll be there then, 2 pm.”

There’s a pause and Akechi is about to conclude the call when she speaks up again. _“What should I look like?”_

 _Whatever you do, please don’t look like a trash bag,_ he thinks. If some of his fans recognize him and decide to play paparazzi, his date’s appearance will affect his own public image. “Whatever you’d like,” he says as gently as he can. “You don’t have to worry about that so much.”

 _“Okay…”_ She sounds hesitant, and Akechi is worried she’ll come dressed inappropriately, but he just said she could come as she is and he can’t take it back. _“Then I’ll see you this afternoon.”_

“Yeah. See you later.”

He hangs up, thoughtful. If she’s worried about her appearance, doesn’t it mean she wants to please him? Does that in turn mean she has started viewing him as a romantic interest? The thought of another high school girl fawning over him out of “love” makes him sick, but he’s the one who started it, so he can’t complain; getting her to fall for him was his goal anyway, a way he could turn her into his pawn. Since his plan seems to be coming along, he figures it’s time for things to move forward. In any case, he has a couple of hours to kill before meeting up with Ayano. That’s time he can spend on the internet getting up to date with the latest news, and perhaps reading a few pages of his current book—a work by Nietzsche. The latter is more a hobby than a duty; he can’t quite imagine discussing philosophy with her.

But he only manages to read and reflect on a dozen pages before it’s time to leave his apartment. He suspects his clock and phone are both conspiring against him and trying to make his life a bitch, but there’s no helping it so he sets his book down with a heavy sigh, goes to grab a coat he will probably end up carrying by hand, and pockets his wallet, phone and keys. _All set._ He considers calling a taxi for discretion but decides against it. He also doesn’t feel like pulling his bicycle’s weight wherever he goes, so that leaves him with one much less than optimal option: the subway.

At least it beats walking.

Akechi's certain he has never prayed harder than on this subway ride. Surprisingly, it seems to work out for him this time. People stare at him a lot and whisper to each other, of course, but no one attempts to talk to him. Not even the two young girls standing just across him. Being stuck in a conversation with them wouldn't be much worse than with Ayano, but they had agreed to meet up and he wasn't about to ditch her, or arrive late for that matter. And that he doesn’t; when he steps out of the station, he has about ten minutes to wait before it’s 2 pm, which is what he had been aiming for. Now he just hopes Ayano didn’t arrive one hour early to make sure she would never be late to her date with the Detective Prince. From what he’s seen of her so far, he can’t imagine her to be that crazy.

_I’ll be waiting in front of the station._

_Ayano — Be there in a second_

She replies so quickly Akechi worries he may have been mistaken about her just before, but in the end he doesn’t really care. She doesn’t appear in a literal second, but after a short minute he spots her walking out of the station and coming his way.

_Okay, she doesn’t look like a trash bag._

From afar, he may have had trouble recognizing her. Black choker top contrasting with the pale complexion of her skin, straight hair falling in dark cascades on her bare shoulders, she looks very different than the proper Kosei student he’s seen time and time again, walking the halls and the streets like she wants no one to look at her. And while he’s had to admit she is naturally pretty, her makeup is making her downright beautiful. Standing there in front of the busy station, surrounded by the public, the reserved and discreet Ayano is positively glowing.

She shifts under Akechi’s gaze. “Hi.”

“You look stunning.” It’s an exaggeration, but not a great one. He stares a bit longer at her, expecting to fluster her, but she doesn’t even bat an eye.

“Thanks.”

Thousands of girls would have died on the spot if Akechi, _the_ Akechi, had said anything like that to them, but Ayano remains perfectly alive and completely unfazed by the comment. No blush on her snow-white cheeks, no stutter in her low voice. Her face is like marble and she stands still as a statue. Either she’s a good actress or she just really doesn’t care about his words. Maybe she thinks she’s above him, that he’s not worth her time. Who is she, Akechi thinks, to ignore his advances? Who is this Galatea looking down on him like this?

He brushes off an urge to grab her by her alabaster neck. “Where would you like to go?”

“A park, maybe? We could go to the Shinjuku Gyoen.”

Akechi nods. “Let’s go.”

The streets of Shinjuku are warm at the coming of summer and he quickly ends up taking off his coat as expected. They walk in silence at first, and he glances around to find a few people looking at them; then from the corner of his eye, he looks back at Ayano, letting his gaze wander on the white of her shoulder, seeing how her top hugs the outline of her body. He expected her to come wearing something cuter, what with the innocence and tameness he thought he perceived from her. It might be at variance with his own pure, princely image. Perhaps he should pursue another girl instead, though it would be a shame to have wasted all this time for nothing. Akechi puts his thoughts on hold when Ayano initiates the conversation to his surprise. It’s only small talk about school, but it’s a first for her, a step in the right direction. She asks if his class has any tests scheduled, if he’s managing homework despite his other responsibilities, if he attends club activities sometimes—without asking which club he’s in—and such other things. He’s not sure if she only sees him as a fellow student or if she’s trying to respect his privacy, but he doesn’t really care either way.

“What club are you in, Yabusaki-san?”

“Drama.”

“Eh, so you like acting?”

Before asking, he couldn’t take a guess, and he never pegged her as the kind of girl who’d be into performing. He did notice something peculiar about her as she talked, something he doesn’t often see in others. Her words aren’t spontaneous and sincere; her gestures look practiced, almost mechanical. To him, her demeanor evokes a singular automaton, its exterior pristine but worn down on the inside, the cogs old and fragile; without any personality, any feelings of its own, yet made to emulate humanity.

“I just picked it by default.”

“By default?”

Does anyone really pick the drama club as a default option? They perform at Kosei’s cultural festival every year, on top of the plays they occasionally present at the school in the course of the year. He might have believed it for any of the less demanding clubs at Kosei, but to pick the drama club as default…

“I wasn’t interested by any of the other clubs, so I picked this one.”

Akechi can see it’s not quite the whole story, but she doesn’t look like she wants to elaborate and frankly, he doesn’t care enough to insist.

“Isn’t acting difficult? Becoming someone else entirely, performing in front of others… It doesn’t sound like a walk in the park.”

(It’s a lame pun but he tries it anyway, waiting for any sort of reaction, from a smile to a sharp look of disappointment. Once again she gives him nothing; either she didn’t make the connection with their current destination, or she just didn’t find it funny. He doesn’t either.)

Ayano hums as she thinks of a reply. “After doing it for so long, you get used to it, don’t you? It becomes almost second nature. Like changing clothes.”

She stares at him intently as she speaks, interrogating him with her gaze, and it unsettles him. He’s reminded of the café, of that time when she said he must be having it hard, constantly striving to please the audience. He’s worried for a moment that he might have let her see through his façade, that she might somehow know everything about him is a lie, but he brushes it off. She can’t know. He’s stayed mindful of every move he makes, every word he says, careful to let nothing show from beneath the mask. Maybe it’s just wild guessing on her part, baseless assumptions that end up being correct. She’s right: it is like changing clothes, except the clothes are coarse and gritty and make him want to tear at them, to tear at his own skin until it peels off and he’s left coated in his blood, red glistening in the limelight.

“I would have never guessed,” he says enthusiastically. “For someone who’d rather avoid interaction with others, to become a performer…”

“I think I see what you mean. I’ve been told something like that by others.” She smiles. “But if you think about it, interaction means an exchange, right? To me, performing is nothing like that. I just give the audience what it wants to see, but between them and the real me… there’s no exchange.”

Akechi didn’t expect her to say anything like that, so honest and genuine, so foreign and yet oddly familiar. He knows what she means because he builds the same wall, digs the same moat between himself and the world. But to hear it from her…

It makes his lips tingle and words nearly spill out.

He refrains from dropping the act, dropping the mask, mentally chastising himself for getting disconcerted so easily. The surprise delayed his response to her words and by the time he’s regained his composure and thinking of what to say, she looks like she’s moved on from the topic, eyes straight ahead. They’re reaching the Shinjuku Gate and Akechi can see a line at the entrance of the park, but thankfully it isn’t so long and the people in it are moving swiftly.

“Do you have your student ID on you?” Ayano asks.

“Yes, I do.”

“Good.”

They take their place in the line, Akechi standing behind her. Her hair smells like soap and though the scent is simple and unoriginal, it’s a pleasant one. It almost makes him feel at ease, but his attention is brought to a couple of girls to the side who seem to be staring at him while talking to each other; he can’t hear what they’re saying, but he can easily take a guess. Ayano shifts in front of him, retrieving her wallet from her bag. It’s about to be their turn to enter the park, so Akechi leaves the two gossip girls behind and imitates her.

“Good afternoon!” They step forward and Akechi sees recognition flash in the receptionist’s eyes. “Oh! You are…”

He flashes her a polite smile. “Good afternoon.” Ayano imitates him.

“You’re both students?”

“Yes.” They show their IDs and she quickly checks them before nodding, finding nothing unsatisfactory.

“It will be ¥250 each, please.”

Akechi interrupts Ayano before she offers her own money, laying a gentle hand on her arm. “Let me.”

She slowly puts her wallet away, muttering a quiet “thanks” as he hands the receptionist the money for both their fees. The woman hands him their tickets, thanks them and wishes them a nice day, moving on to the next person in line. _Such a repetitive, mechanical job. How boring._ Akechi follows Ayano into the park and they pass by a map of the gardens, but she pays it no mind. Either she knows where she’s going already, or she’s just not the kind to follow maps. Akechi’s never been to the Shinjuku Gyoen gardens before himself. Not only he’d usually rather avoid the risk of being recognized by fans if he can, but he’s also not much of a park person. He prefers the peace and quiet of his apartment. A familiar environment—not that it brings him much comfort.

“Do you often go to parks during your free time?” he asks her.

She hums. “I wouldn’t say often, no. But sometimes I feel like it, so I go see the blooming flowers. I come here at least once every fall.”

“Is fall your favorite season?”

Why do people even have favorite seasons?

“It’s the one with the least drawbacks to me.” _Well, that makes sense, I guess._ “The colors are also nice.”

“So, what do you do in your free time, then?”

“I read, mostly.” She looks oddly unsure, like she doesn’t even know herself.

“What kind of books do you read?”

“Mainly plays? I also read books for my studies and books I’ve been recommended by classmates.”

He’s finally making progress. There’s a topic they can discuss in the future to “bond”. “What do they usually recommend?”

“Romance, fantasy, sci-fi… Sometimes, I get recommended a thriller or a detective novel. I can read anything.”

“You have very broad tastes.” It’s meant as a compliment, but he doesn’t know why he tries anymore.

“I wouldn’t say those are my tastes. Actually, I don’t think I have any particular genre I like…”

“Not even theater?”

She doesn’t look very convinced. “I guess you could say that? It’s mostly work for the club, though.”

_What the hell?_

“You’re very dedicated.”

“Ah, no, that’s… This is nothing, my clubmates work much harder than me.” A classic reaction for the average Japanese person but for some reason, her fake modesty feels off. However, Akechi can’t put his finger on the reason, so he just drops it and lets the conversation come to a pause. A couple of minutes pass like this and he notices Ayano seems to be growing ill at ease, fidgeting with her sleeve and biting her lips.

“Um, Yabusaki-san… are you alright? You look a bit uncomfortable. Is it because of me?”

“No, not at all! I’m just… thinking.” She looks hesitant and for a moment, he thinks she’s just going to leave it at that, but she graces him with an explanation. “I’m not actually used to taking part in prolonged conversations like this. I’m not really sure how to act... Sorry.”

Akechi doesn’t know what’s so difficult about talking, but maybe she’s just overwhelmed by his presence. “You should just be yourself.”

She doesn’t reply to that, but the look she gives him in that split second tells him enough. _“I don’t know what that means.”_

Silence settles between the two and Akechi doesn’t dare disturb it. He needs to figure out what to do with this girl; at times reserved and at times open, alternately confident and shy, he can’t figure out what her deal is. It might be better to go for a simpler, more manageable character. And yet…

While he’s perusing his catalogue of options, they stop at the edge of a pond. Ayano leans on the fence, staring at her reflection on the water below. He wonders if she’s having a sudden existential crisis after she discovered her lack of identity, but when she breaks the silence, he finds it’s not what’s on her mind at all.

“Can I ask you something? It might sound dumb, but I’ve been wondering, so…”

“Sure, ask me anything.” _Well, no._

“Is this a date?”

Akechi doesn’t hide his surprise at her question, not used to her being so straightforward. Implications are more glamorous, but outspokenness has its merits as well. In any case, this is where he makes his decision.

She is an oddity, this Ayano, with her apparent lack of passions and character, but Akechi recognizes a smart girl when he sees one. Not only has he used too much of his time on her and he can’t afford to repeat the entire process with another girl, but he’s also honestly not sure he can find anyone better. While she’s not been very responsive to his advances so far, he doesn’t need her to love him, as long as she plays along somehow. There it is, then. He’s made up his mind.

“Um… I—I…” It’s a shame he can’t fake a blush. Stuttering and looking like an idiot will have to do. He looks away from her and stares at the water instead. “Y—yes…? I mean, if you’re okay with that, of course! I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.” He adds a little nervous laugh for good measure.

She puts her hand on her chin thoughtfully. “Well, I’ve never been on a date before, so I don’t know how it works, but I can try to figure it out.”

“Oh, don’t worry about it! As long as you enjoy yourself, nothing else really matters.”

She looks at him a few seconds, looking oddly focused and pensive. It’s like she’s trying to decipher his words. “Hm… okay. If you say so.”

She doesn’t seem convinced but says nothing. They spend the next hour strolling leisurely in the park, looking at the fish swimming in the ponds, sometimes talking about little nothings. Ayano teaches him about the symbolism of a few flowers, never straying from the topic, never telling more than the essential. Akechi commits the information to his memory; it might be of use to him one day.

“Do you have any special memories of this park?”

Ayano stares at him inquisitively, trying to make sense of his question. “Special memories? Well, I suppose I could say the first time I came here.” She glances at Akechi, who’s waiting for her to elaborate, so she does. “It was a few years ago. I went there with my family to see the cherry blossoms… Then my brother wanted us to try out this French restaurant nearby.”

As soon as she finishes her sentence, regret shows on her face. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. Forgive me, I didn’t mean to ramble about insignificant things like this.”

He’s not sure why she’s apologizing when he was the one to ask her about it, but there’s no point in dwelling over it, so he changes the subject. He figures talking about himself a bit might balance the scales and make her more at ease. So he deigns to share with her a couple of his childhood memories, whatever he can afford to reveal without telling her the truth about his parents. To be honest, Ayano looks like she couldn’t be a threat to him even if she tried, and she doesn’t look like she cares enough to try anything in the first place; but it’s a habit of his to be mindful of his every word, to make sure nothing he says can be used against him. He can’t take a risk, not with anyone.

Ayano is the one who first offers to call it a day, and while Akechi he’s glad he gets to go home, he worries he didn’t do enough to please her and she found the date boring. The thought unnerves him, leaving him frustrated he might have not done well enough, but he tells himself it might be a different reason entirely. Perhaps she has important things to attend to, or maybe she’s just being considerate of his own time. _Wouldn’t that be nice, now?_

When they’re back in front of Shinjuku Station, facing each other awkwardly, it occurs to him this was his actual first date as well as hers. He won’t tell her that, though, because she doesn’t need to know. He doesn’t want her getting the illusion that she’s anything special, although he can’t help but admit to himself she’s not all he expected her to be at first.

“Thank you for inviting me. It was nice of you.” She fidgets with her hands again, visibly still nervous.

“Ah, no… thank you for coming. And thank you for showing me the gardens.” Honestly, it was nothing special, but it wasn’t as crowded as he expected it to be and the atmosphere was quite peaceful, so it wasn’t bad either, he’ll concede that much. “How did you enjoy your first date?”

“I had a great time.”

While her smile is almost convincing, she isn’t really being honest. He’ll have to do better than that next time. “I’m glad. Will I see you again?”

“Well, you can text me if you ever want to. I have time on weekends.”

“I will.” He nods. “Well… see you, then. Be safe.”

“Yeah. You too.”

With that, she turns away and enters the station, leaving Akechi to go home alone with his thoughts, and of those he has many. This Ayano is actually not any harder to read for him than anyone else; the problem, however, is understanding her. She obviously doesn’t care much about Akechi, yet she goes along with him; she doesn’t seem attracted to him, yet she lets him seduce her. He thought maybe she’d find pride in dating a celebrity, like the average person would, but he has more and more trouble picturing her as this kind of person the more he interacts with her. And yet, why else would she spend time with him if she doesn’t like him? What’s her goal? He can’t figure it out, no matter how much he thinks about it, and there’s nothing that upsets him more than not knowing one’s ulterior motive.

She remains distant and closed off, never showing her true colors, constantly faking and pretending. In a way, she reminds him of himself.

Perhaps he can get a better idea if he changes how he looks at her.


	6. if it's a challenge (The Hanged Man)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ayano comes home to vultures waiting for her. She can't fool them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> According to my research, a lot of 2-story houses in Japan seem to have the living and/or dining room(s) upstairs rather than on the ground floor. Not sure what's up with that.  
>  Ayano's family home has its bedrooms upstairs, thank you very much.

“I’m home.”

Ayano barely has time to take off her shoes; when she raises her head again, her mother has stood up from the couch to stand at the entrance of the living room, looking at her curiously. A glance inside the room right shows her father hasn’t left his seat in front the TV, but he too seems to be paying close attention to her. _What now?_

“Welcome back, sweetie,” her mother says. She seems hesitant to speak her mind. Ayano can feel a question hanging from her lips, dripping like honey, but it remains unasked.

That’s when her brother steps down the stairs a bit too enthusiastically. “So… how did it go?”

“What…?”

“Your friendly meeting, did it go well?” A smirk adorns his face. Is he implying something? He’s definitely implying something.

“Yeah, it did.”

“That’s good to hear, sweetheart,” her mother replies absent-mindedly. “Um… say, by any chance…”

Her brother spills it. “Were you seeing a guy?”

What’s up with him? He usually leaves her in peace… why has he decided to take an interest in her business today? What is he doing here for two weekends in a row anyway? And why is everyone nearly suspended to her lips, waiting to know? What’s gotten into them while she was out?

Ayano isn’t one to hide things. “Uh… yeah?”

Her father grabs the remote and lowers the TV volume.

“So you were on a date.”

Hiroshi’s smirk turns into a shit-eating grin, and she finds herself thinking her brother’s face has never looked so punchable before. It’s written clear as day on his smug face: her brother is the one who put that idea in her parents' head. He must have guessed from her appearance. She never puts that much effort in her looks, and he must have thought it was because she was seeing a guy. The truth is she wanted to look good because she knew the risk of meeting up with a famous person; she figured it would be better for Akechi if he was seen with a good-looking girl. And perhaps her classmates won’t recognize her if that happens.

But how dare they conspire against her like this?

“Can I go to my…”

“What is he like?” her mother asks her before she can finish. _Okay, guess I can’t._

“Uh… he’s…” What is he, actually? “Polite?” Yeah, that much is true. “He’s nice, I guess.”

“What’s he look like?”

“He’s handsome?” Her brother doesn’t look satisfied by that answer. “What, do you want details? Should I… draw a picture of his face for you, or…?”

“You can’t draw for shit,” he casually notes. Well, he’s right. She can’t. “Don’t you have a pic of him on your phone?”

“…No?”

He goes back to his room with a small “Okay"; behind his amused tone, Ayano can tell he doesn’t plan on dropping the matter entirely. But he’ll give her a break for now and she supposes it’ll have to suffice. When she looks over to her father, he merely nods approvingly. Her mother obviously wants to know more as well, but Ayano raises her brows at her and the woman just walks back to the couch in silence.

With a heavy sigh, she finally climbs to her room, eager to spend the rest of her day alone and undisturbed. She has a book she’s been meaning to finish, an Italian play, translated into Japanese of course. She has a few English plays by Shakespeare and some French plays by Molière in bilingual editions—books her father picked out for her so she could practice the languages as well as the text. But he also got her some Italian classics so she could study the original archetypes of theater.

She vaguely remembers being genuinely interested in acting before it became a tool. She’d play with her father on the weekends, acting out characters from various plays with him. It would get very elaborate at times and they would wear makeshift costumes.

On second thought, she’ll keep the reading for tomorrow. After checking for any cat that may be hidden under her covers, she lets herself fall like a sad lump on the bed. She’s fatigued, not so much physically but rather mentally after running her brain full throttle. Talking to people in general is tiring, but with Akechi, it’s downright draining. Not only he puts her in an unfamiliar situation, requiring more of her brainpower to figure out what to say and how to act and react, but he’s also painfully dishonest with her and that, in turn, means she also has to try and decipher all his words.

 _“As long as you enjoy yourself, nothing else really matters”_ meaning “I just need you to act like we’re dating, nothing more.”

 _“Will I see you again?”_ meaning “Will you play right into my hands?”

She can only try to guess what he needs her for. He hasn’t given her any indications yet, and he’s probably not about to. She’s thought of straight up asking him, but he’d find her weird for asking that and he’d just play it cool. Like he’s totally not trying to make her dance to his tune. But she knows something is up. His demeanor screams fraud, his words and smiles, all lies. On top of that, their second meeting can’t have been pure luck. How would he notice her amid the busy crowds of Shibuya when she’s spent years molding herself into a perfectly normal teenage girl, all so she could fit in without standing out?

Ayano doesn’t believe in fate. So then, what was the reason for their meeting?

And why does he insist on seeing her, week after week? It seems unlikely to her that he would genuinely pursue her. She has nothing to offer him, while he has at least a thousand girls at his feet. _What does he want from me?_

But here’s a better question. Does little Ayano want anything to do with the Detective Prince? So far, she’s played along with his scheme, whatever it may be, trying to figure out the details. But now Akechi is moving forward, and she has to decide if she wants to follow or not before she can’t run from the situation anymore. So she thinks. The drawbacks of getting involved with Akechi’s love life are quite obvious: eventually being exposed to his public, which would bring unnecessary attention to her; having to live up to its expectations while facing the threat of his many fangirls, some of whom may be less tolerant than others… But what about the advantages? What would they be?

Most girls surely would find pride in the title and position of “Akechi’s princess”, but what would she gain from it? No love. Perhaps fame, by putting herself on the frontline of the media, shining light down on anything she could accomplish, but even that could turn for the worse. Money and comfort of life, maybe? That would be a stretch. Perhaps she could ask him for favors in return for playing along. But whatever would she ask for? What he can offer her seems very limited, especially with his busy schedule. And he'd probably get sick of her if she asked him favors, and then he’d break up with her. Why even bother, when she could avoid a relationship in the first place?

Everything tells her to drop it. And yet…

It’s a challenge and a learning opportunity.

She’s never been asked to play the role of a princess before and therefore she’s not sure what it entails, but she can figure it out along the way. And beyond that, she can probably learn a few things about impeccable acting from Akechi. The guy looks like he’s a master of the art. He never slips up, never falters, never breaks character. His acting is so consistent, so believable. This is what she needs. Flawless understanding of the human psyche and flawless acting skills, so she can live a perfect life, without ever lacking anything, without ever being treated differently and looked down on because she’s a half.

But it’s not all. Deep down inside of her, she feels this faint rebellious spark she never knew she had. She’s got nothing to prove, but a part of her wants to fight him anyways, to reveal his true intentions and see through his lies, to face him and defeat him.

Right then, she will have a lot of research to do in the following days. She has to figure out what’s expected of her somehow without being able to rely on Akechi. Fortunately, with the “bonds” she has forged with her classmates, she has an ample supply of information within easy reach: all she has to do is innocently ask her peers for advice or look into Japanese romance fiction, whether it be books or movies or dramas.

At the first wrong step, the illusion she spent so long crafting may break. She can’t afford to make a mistake. She will escape her father’s fate. She’ll live a quiet, happy life as a Japanese citizen and no one will ever learn she’s the daughter of a _gaijin_ again. She can’t falter.


	7. be my girl? (Justice)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And Akechi finally realizes something he should have seen a couple months ago.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another wound in my strife for precious verisimilitude: all these dates are bullshit.  
>  In Japan, apparently, it's customary to go on dates that last for half a day or a whole day. If you go out for lunch, you usually visit something else during the afternoon, like a theme park or something.  
>  But I mean, I can use Akechi's supposedly busy schedule as an excuse for that one, so my conscience remains moderately clear.

The recent rise in popularity of the “Phantom Thieves" pushes a whole new load of work on Akechi’s metaphorical plate—interviews, public appearances and sometimes following suspects; not to mention, more people being aware of the cognitive world mean more potential obstacles for him to keep an eye on and include in his calculations, if he doesn’t want his plan to fail. Coupled with Shido's occasional time-consuming assignments and the cases he has to help in solving (he has to maintain the detective façade after all), it doesn’t leave him much time to frolic around Tokyo. And with his recent meeting of an intriguing raven-haired boy, he might have somewhat neglected his time with Ayano.

In three weeks' time, he’s managed to see her twice, and both times were interrupted by calls from the police and Shido needing his help, in that order. Both times, Ayano just shrugged it off with a smile. Of course she did. Her turning clingy would really be the last straw. Now he’s faced with the prospect of a free afternoon, but it’s a Tuesday, meaning Ayano will most likely be unavailable. He figures he can ask her anyways; there is a slight chance she may be able and willing to free her afternoon for him, and even if she doesn’t, well, “it’s the thought that counts". He can spend that evening alone or investigating Amamiya anyway.

Akechi dials her number, checking the time out of the corner of his eye. It’s a Sunday afternoon, she should be able to pick up.

_“Yes?”_

“Hello, Yabusaki-san. Are you well?”

 _“As usual,”_ she replies. _“What about you? Has work killed you yet?”_

It doesn’t sound accusatory in the least. “How did you know? I’m actually calling from the afterlife.”

 _“Well they seem to have good network. Being dead doesn’t sound so bad.”_ Did she just… did she just follow up with another joke?

For her effort, he’ll give her a chuckle. Surely she deserves that much.

_“So, what’s up?”_

Her tone returns to serious, so he imitates her. “Is there the slightest chance I can see you this Tuesday?”

_“Tuesday, huh… I could negotiate with my boss to have the afternoon off. I have to be back at the dorms at 7:30, though.”_

“That's… I’m asking a lot of you, am I not?”

_“Not at all, this is nothing. When are you free exactly?”_

“As soon as 4 pm. Where are we meeting?”

She hums from her side of the call. _“Just like usual.”_

Meaning _“Pick a place and give me the name of the station.”_ He's thought of some place he could take her that she would probably not dislike, at least. Well, she doesn’t seem like a very spiritual person… but it doesn’t really matter anyway. He just needs to talk to her. “Harajuku Station?”

_“No problem. I’ll be there around 4 myself and wait for you there.”_

“Thanks a lot. I’m sorry for the trouble… I hope I’ll make it up to you.”

_“We’ll see. Well then, see you on Tuesday.”_

“Yeah. See you.”

Days pass one by one and nothing comes in the way of his date with Ayano. He can’t be sure yet though: he wouldn’t be so surprised to receive a call from Shido or anyone else right as he steps out of the subway. _I just need an hour with her. Just one fucking hour._ He’s spent enough time with Ayano now; it’s time to move on to the next step. If all goes well today, he can let himself “slip up” during the next TV interview. Well, perhaps he won’t need to. If the paparazzi make their move today…

To be honest, it occurred to him a few days ago that he doesn’t really to do any of this anymore. The public is too busy waiting to know who the Phantom Thieves will target next to think about the shutdowns and breakdowns anymore, and he's been so busy in the last weeks he hasn’t stepped foot at school again—his fangirls must be missing him. Not that he cares. But on second thought, he may need to use her after he succeeds with his plan to eliminate Shido. He doesn’t plan on letting anyone discover the truth, so he’ll have to keep going with his charade. And if anything, getting into a relationship will make him seem more relatable and normal in the eyes of the public. Being a perfect student with impossibly good looks and great intellect has been working well for him so far, but people like idols they can at least relate to on some points. He has to look human, doesn’t he? And what better way than “falling in love”?

So he climbs into the subway, cursing the suffocating warmth of bodies pressed together. It doesn’t help that today is a hot June day, he thinks as he pulls on the collar of his shirt. He hopes the heat doesn’t make him sweat too much; it would ruin his hair, and his hair is one of the characteristics of his appearance that his fans seem to like best. He’s taken his briefcase with to keep his money and papers safe since he’s gone out without a coat, but it’s not all he has in mind. From afar, people might have doubts just seeing his looks, but the briefcase is a sign you can’t mistake. Perhaps today really is the day where a picture of the both of them leaks out on the net.

The announcer calls Harajuku, bringing Akechi back to earth. He one-handedly unlocks his phone and types a quick text to tell Ayano he’s almost there. Now that he thinks about it, she’ll be wearing their school’s uniform, won’t she? He hasn’t considered the possibility before, but she may get in trouble if fellow students recognize her. Well… he’ll cross that bridge when he gets to it. A minute later, he steps out of Harajuku and sure enough, she’s standing right there, waiting for him. “Hello there,” she chirps. As he thought, she’s still in her uniform, but she seems to have found the time and place to do her hair and makeup anyway.

“I love the look of our uniform on you. You make it look quite elegant.” He smiles. “But it’s not a surprise anymore.”

She shifts on her feet and readjusts her hair. “Thanks.”

The gesture surprises him a bit. When did she learn that?

Come to think of it, since that first date three weeks ago, she’s been looking more and more comfortable, even confident with him. She doesn’t hesitate as much when talking to him, doesn’t turn and twiddle anymore and, well… she’s acting completely normal. Keyword: acting. Akechi’s used to it, none of her gestures and words come from the heart. Everything is calculated. And while she’s obviously not as used to it as he is, it’s actually believable. Anyone else would miss it completely; he doesn’t, because it’s his damn job. And that’s why day after day, it bothers him less and less to spend time with her. Actually, he might come to view her as a remote friend.

The trip to the Meiji Shrine is rather quick; Akechi leads the way and Ayano has no issue adjusting to his pace. She seems unsure of whether or not to talk and opts to remain comfortably silent for most of the walk, instead listening to the ambient sounds of the city. When they reach their destination, he attentively gauges her reaction. Her eyes are skimming over the other people on the site and he catches her fiddling with her own hands. _There it is again._ He had thought it to be gone by now. Did he pick a bad place?

“Is this your first time here?” he asks, his tone as gentle as he can, hoping to calm her down.

“No. I came here a few times with my m—my family.” What was she going to say, and why did she correct herself? “It was on the weekend, though. More people around.”

“I thought you’d like coming here better during the week. It’s less busy like this.”

She manages a little smile. “You know me well.”

At least he hasn’t messed up that much. And she’s been so gracious as to throw him a line and provide him with a conversation topic.

“Well, I wouldn’t say that… You never tell me much about yourself.” He tries his best to look sad about it.

“There’s not much to know.”

“Nonsense.” He chuckles and smiles sweetly. “I want to learn more about you, Yabusaki-san.”

“Ask away.”

He thinks a little. “For example… What would you like to do when you graduate?”

“Hm… I think I’m going to study psychology, actually.”

“Really?”

Nothing she’s told him before would have allowed him to make this prediction. This is a new piece she’s giving him, but he’s not sure how it fits in the puzzle she is to him and he doesn’t have the vaguest idea of what the full picture can be.

“Are you surprised?”

 _No shit, Sherlock._ “I never knew you were interested in psychology.”

“Well, it’s more like… it’s mostly to make my life easier.”

Does she have any idea what she’ getting into? Or is she hoping to get a good job and live a financially comfortable life? He’s not sure but either way, he doesn’t see her lasting very long in her studies.

“And here I was expecting you to study the art of theater instead… You never cease to surprise me.”

“Huh…? What for?”

“I don’t know. You could become an actress!” He pauses. “I was under the impression you enjoyed acting. At least, you seemed very committed to the drama club.”

She looks away and her eyes get lost. “Me? An actress?” she mutters, as if the thought never crossed her mind. She falls silent then.

“I’m sorry, did I… say anything I shouldn’t have?” he tries to ask, but she doesn’t respond immediately. He guesses she’s considering the idea for a moment, lost in thought, before she shakes her head and laughs.

“An actress! You can’t be serious.”

Her tone is oddly playful, like she’s radiating “Eh, you’re joking, right?” energy. But at the same time, Akechi can’t help but feel like she sounds unsure of herself. Like he reminded her of a dream she let go of, and she’s admonishing her past self for ever getting the idea. _Past self…?_

Akechi can’t help but feel an ounce of sympathy for her. He got so used of judging others by how useful they can be to him, he has a tendency to forget they’re still fundamentally human. He too used to have dreams of his own, before he gave up on all of them. He’s a little curious about her own circumstances, but she still looks upset. Best to drop the subject entirely.

And after all, he’s come here for a reason. It’s about time he got to it. “Yabusaki-san.” He stills. She stops walking as well and turns to him expectantly. All traces of her previous distress have vanished from her expression. Honestly, she looks like she already knows what he’s about to say. “There’s something else I wanted to ask you today.”

She nods. “Go ahead.”

“Will you go out with me?”

The reply doesn’t come right away. He notices the discreet moving of her eyes. She’s glancing behind him, as subtly as she can, a faint uneasy look in her eyes. She must be afraid of being watched. A couple more seconds pass and he breathes in. “I know I can’t make you as happy as I’d like with my busy schedule, but—”

“Stop.” She cuts him. “Don’t say a word.”

The way she says it, like she doesn’t want him to dig his own grave, makes him worry she’s actually going to turn him down. He didn’t come prepared to handle a potential rejection. She’s visibly thinking, brows furrowed and eyes cast downwards, even biting at her lips. Akechi understands; after all, he’s asking a lot of her. But he needs her to say yes.

At last she lets out a soft sigh. “Okay. I… I accept.”

It’s an obviously half-hearted yes, but it’ll have to do. He’s genuinely relieved he didn’t waste all this time after all.

“Thank you.”

“I’ll keep doing my best.” She seems to have mostly regained her composure, facing him in an almost business-like way, and the way she speaks… Ah, now it hits him square in the face. She knows. She’s known since the beginning and he was so confident in his acting skills he never suspected she’d see through his lies somehow. Surely she knows because she’s like him in a way, like a reflection on the other side of the mirror. She knows all of this is a farce, a mere mockery of courtship. An elaborate act, starring the both of them.

The prince and princess of liars.

“Shall we walk back to the station?” Akechi smiles.

“Yeah.”


	8. break (The Hanged Man)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She's tired of pretending without knowing why. Maybe she can afford to take a little break.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author worries too much about verisimilitude, part ??:  
>  Initially, everyone was calling the reader-character by her first name, but then it struck me that in real-life Japan, no one probably would, since, well, she doesn't really have any friends. So I got around to editing that. Only keeping a last name+honorific-to-first name+honorific shift with Akechi from this chapter onwards.   
>  By the way, that desk neighbor/classmate is going to appear again later too.

Day after day, Ayano’s fear of being discovered recedes and she grows surer that no one noticed Akechi hanging out with a random girl time and time again. By the end of the week, she’s almost ready to bet her allowance this month that she’ll get to go home in peace, without hearing one word about Akechi’s potential love life or a scandalous leaked photo. It’s good she doesn’t have friends to bet with, because she’d have lost. Friday noon and the radio silence breaks. Kosei’s hallways fill with gossiping schoolgirls speaking in hushed tones.

“Did you hear about the interview?” one of them says to her friend as they pass by Ayano.

“Interview? Which one?”

“With Akechi-kun, this morning!”

Ayano stops walking and pretends to check her timetable on her phone. The two girls are walking rather slowly and she has good hearing, so she should be able to eavesdrop on their conversation a bit longer.

“Apparently someone posted a pic of him and a girl at the Meiji Shrine on some small website, and some people confirmed they had seen the two together before!”

“No way!”

“One of the fans in the audience caught wind of it and asked Akechi about it during the interview.”

“Eh? What did he say? Is he dating her?”

“He was a bit hesitant, but he said she was his girlfriend! I still can’t believe it!”

“You’re kidding! Where did you find that interview?”

“A friend showed it to me at lunch. I’ll send you a link later!”

Ayano does her best to look calm and unconcerned as she makes her way to her classroom, even if she’s nearing panic on the inside. She encounters a few other girls talking about the same thing, but none of them ever mention who the girl could be. She notices no sideways glances, no whispers as she walks. To her relief, they don’t seem to have recognized her. Well, the existence of this picture was only revealed to the public this morning, after all. It would take a little longer before Akechi’s horde of nosy fangirls call for a general witch hunt. But even so, it’s crazy how fast the news spread—like a wildfire on a dry day. How could it blow up in so few hours? How is it that this guy has them all waiting for his every word and move? Is charisma alone that powerful?

“Ah, Yabusaki-san!”

A girl jumps on her as soon as she steps into her classroom. It’s the girl who sits to her right and with whom she's often assigned projects. She’s a chatty and cheerful girl and she always insists on being nice to Ayano, but that's about it for her. _Let me guess._

“Did you hear the news?”

“What news?” Ayano is probably unreadable for her oblivious classmate, but it’s better that way. She doesn’t know her classmate enough to guess her reaction if she learned the truth.

“Apparently Akechi-san’s dating a girl!”

“Ah? That’s a bit unexpected.”

“I know, right? Look!”

She presents her phone to Ayano, showing her the picture everyone’s been going bonkers over for the past few hours. The picture was taken from a safe distance and she wasn’t facing whoever took the photo, so it shouldn’t be easy to recognize her even with the uniform. _Might as well ask the informed masses._

“Does anyone know who the girl is yet?”

“No, not yet. It doesn’t seem like Akechi-san wants to tell anyone either.”

“Well, it makes sense…” Ayano is at least a bit thankful he said nothing to hint at her identity so far. All she can do now is hope he’ll be considerate enough to keep silent.

“Yeah, you’re right. Still, it’s pretty cool, isn’t it?”

She seems genuinely delighted. Poor girl, if she knew the truth she'd surely be disappointed. Their relationship, if it can even be called that, is nothing like the fairy tale she must be imagining. A dreamy romance between an attractive guy and an unsuspecting girl. Like in the dramas Ayano’s watched to try and figure out what was expected of her. _It’s just business. A contract between us._

Ayano sits at her desk and pulls out her reading glasses. She’s had the idea of wearing them more often at school, not out of pity for her eyesight but because it’s one more thing that makes her different from the girl on the photo. Anything that may increase her life expectancy before the Inquisition.

Afternoon classes pass one by one and nothing else that’s noteworthy happens, save from a text from Ayano’s boss saying the flower shop is exceptionally closed today because “she has things to do”. Whatever the reason, it gives her another opportunity to attend club activities this week; after all, she already used her weekly day off to see Akechi instead of going to her club like she usually does. But it’s not like she had to rehearse for any upcoming spectacle at the school anyways. She’s rarely ever picked for roles due to her unstable schedule.

Frankly, club activities are mostly boring to her. Since she doesn’t play most of the time, she’s stuck where she dislikes being the most: on the sidelines, watching those on the scene from a distance. At least, being one of the few senior members of the club, younger students often ask her for advice on how to simulate this emotion or say that line. The members have solid bases, but they rely on her for the details. It’s her thing after all—pacing. She knows how to articulate a sentence to add just the right amount of weight to the words, or when to throw in that extra little gesture to give more impact to a well-delivered speech. She’s spent years watching others shine on the scene, taking notes to succeed as well one day. To reach that level of credibility.

The ability to become anyone.

“Say, Yabusaki-san… you’ve been looking livelier these past few weeks.”

It’s Yoshino, a senior in the club just like her, who breaks the silence of the sidelines with a whisper. She’s been observing the others rehearse from her spot next to Ayano, leaning casually against the windows without saying a word until now. Yoshino is a few months older than her and one of the best students in the entire school which, for a school as demanding as theirs, is saying quite something. She’s got everything going for her—personality looks, she has it all. The impossibly perfect type. She’s a queen of the school. She’s all that Ayano strives to become.

But in her case, she’s only an imitation.

“Hm? What about it?”

“Ah, nothing,” Yoshino replies with a smile. “I was just wondering if anything good happened.”

“Nothing special. I’m just looking forward to the summer break.”

“But that’s in a month…”

“A month is nothing,” Ayano replies cheerfully, playing with the curtains. “Before you know it, we’ll be graduating from high school.”

“Don’t say that!” Yoshino playfully jabs her with an elbow. “I still want to enjoy high school a little longer.”

A comfortable silence settles in the sidelines, like the other sounds of the room are receding. “It’s a simple life here, isn’t it? Wake up, go to school, go home, study, then start over again the next day.”

“Well, it’s not always that simple,” the queen muses. “But it is a comfortable routine. With manageable responsibilities,” she laughs at the last part.

“Mechanical.” She turns her head at the word Ayano blurts out. “It’s all mechanical.”

Why does the word leave such an odd taste in her mouth? What is she forgetting? _Don’t think_. “Are you bored of it?”

What an odd question, Ayano thinks, and she smiles one more time. “Not at all.” They both return to watching the others in silence.

There’s not much for her to do at the club other than that, so she retrieves her suitcase at the dorms and leaves early. It’s the end of another week of her ideal, unblemished student life. Another step in the right direction to achieve a successful life. So why does she feel unsatisfied?

Squished against the windows of the subway, she pulls her phone from her bag to send a text to her mother to let her know she’s on the way. Oddly enough, her brother seems to have sent her a text during afterschool. He usually doesn’t send her texts, knowing she’s not so partial to communication in the family. She opens the conversation, expecting it to say he’s coming this weekend, perhaps bringing his girlfriend as well, or something equally ordinary.

It’s the picture of Akechi and her at the shrine.

She sighs and gives up on replying, sliding the device back in her bag instead. Of course this was going to happen. The straight hair might be enough to fool the students at her school, but Hiroshi would recognize her whatever the circumstances. It must be an odd power that comes with having siblings.

Obviously now, if her brother has realized, then her mother must know as well.

The train ride to Kodaira that follows is spent mentally preparing for the encounter. This time she won’t escape her mother’s questioning, and Ayano at least hopes she’s watched enough TV to know the basics about her new boyfriend. Like “What does he look like?” or “What kind of boy is he?” Perhaps her father will even join in when he comes home for the weekend. At this instant, Ayano feels a touch of sympathy for Akechi. It seems tonight she’ll be getting bombarded with questions as well, a taste of the celebrity life.

As soon as the keys turn in the lock, Ayano hears steps coming closer at a fast pace. Her mother practically runs out of the living room. “I’m home?”

“Ayano, your brother sent me a picture—here, look…”

She must really be shaken if she even forgoes the traditional greetings.

“I’ve seen it already, mom. He sent it to me too.”

“So… on the picture… is it you?”

“Yeah.”

Her eyes positively shine at that, and she walks back into the living room, gesturing for Ayano to come and sit down with her. Well, she can give her that. They haven’t had a mother-daughter talk in years.

“Tell me everything.” The woman sounds ecstatic, but she can’t picture why.

“There’s not much to tell…”

“How did you meet him? Who approached the other first?”

“Uh… He kind of ran into me in the streets of Shinjuku? And we met again a couple weeks later, so he took me to a café…”

“Oh, how lovely! And is he treating you well?”

“Well, yeah.” She wouldn’t be doing this if he were an insufferable prick day after day. At least he has the decency to treat her like a human person… or pretend to, at the very least.

“It’s all so incredible… and he's such a fine young man! I never expected you’d date a celebrity…”

“Does the fact he’s famous change anything?”

“Huh? Ah, well… no, not really.” Mrs. Yabusaki’s enthusiasm falters, but doesn’t quite crumble. “When will we get to meet him? We could have him over for dinner! He could even spend the—”

“He’s a busy guy, you know, mom. He’s a student, a detective and a celebrity all at once… That’s a lot of work for one human.”

“Hm… you’re right. Well, just in case, the offer still stands.” She pauses, and gently caresses her daughter’s cheek. “I’m happy for you. You deserve to be happy.”

She’d sincerely feel better if she didn’t have to deal with him. “Thanks.”

Seeing her mother’s curiosity visibly appeased for now, Ayano stands up to ascend to her bedroom. She finds Soba resting on her desk chair, leaving the bed empty for her to collapse onto, phone in hand. Looking at the screen, it seems she’s already opened her conversation with Akechi without thinking. She supposes she can at least tell him.

_Ding dong, it’s the mailman_

_Akechi — What news do you bring?_

She didn’t expect him to reply so fast. She vaguely hopes she’s not bothering him. _Better be done with it quickly, I guess._

_My brother saw the pic. My whole family knows about you now._

_Akechi — I see._

_Sorry, I’ll wear a wig next time we’re going out. You got a favorite color?_

_Akechi — I like your hair just fine as it is._

_Akechi — Ah, but were you actually trying to lower the chances of anyone recognizing you? Is that why you straightened your hair and wore makeup?_

_There was an attempt_

_I’m an actress though, not a spy_

_Akechi — I should have been more considerate of your feelings._

This is what he wanted, isn’t it? He can pretend all he wants, Ayano knows he doesn’t really care about her feelings. He wouldn’t have asked her out if he did, after all, right?

_Akechi — Did your family say anything?_

_My mom wants to have you over for dinner_

_I told her you’re busy though, don’t worry about it_

His reply takes a little longer to come this time. Ayano almost falls asleep, thinking something has come up on his side—or perhaps he’s just decided to end the conversation there. But her phone vibrates next to her head a few minutes later.

_Akechi — Thanks._

That’s strange. She expected him to reply that he’d love to meet her family if he finds the time for it, never to bring it up again. How come he’s being so uncharacteristically honest? Ayano shakes her head. It doesn’t matter anyways. The last thing she’d want is for him to meet his family; they’ll find common ground on that point at least. He probably didn’t sign up for this, and she’d rather he didn’t learn she’s a half. He probably wouldn’t care either way, but…

Her nice girl instincts she has developed over time tell her to wish her a nice weekend or something of the like, but she decides against it. There’s no point in it, and he’d probably prefer if they kept the talking to a minimum. Maybe he’ll stop his nice guy act with her now that he’s secured what he was after? In that case, maybe she can take a break from her own act too. It’s tiring work. Being like her, he’ll understand, won’t he?

What if there's the slightest chance they could even become friends?

_No._

_Don’t think._

In truth, little Ayano is lonely.

She sacrificed so much for a chance to live a happy life, but what did she gain from it all? She wanted others to look at her like anyone else, so she wouldn’t ever need to fear being alone, being treated as an outsider. But how could she ever make any friends while lying about who she is? _Stop._ How different would her life be if she had allowed herself to be whatever she wanted instead of donning a mask to please the audience? What would change if she went back after all these years, if she took off the mask now? _There’s no going back. Not anymore._

_I’ve already forgotten who I really was._

She fights it, she does. She wants to stay "strong" and keep pretending she's "happy" with the way things are, but she's so tired. The façade shatters, the pieces fall to the ground and for the first time in 9 years, Ayano breaks down in tears. But it's okay, because it's just for tonight. She’ll pick up the shards tomorrow.


	9. un beau geste (Justice)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Akechi feels like broadening his horizons. Ayano can probably teach him a couple of things.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd be curious to know if any of you have ever tried _escargots_ , especially _à la bourguignonne_ , and what you thought of it?  
>  As a French person, _escargots_ are probably my favourite savoury dish... But the garlic butter is so important, oh my God.

Three weeks pass. It’s three weeks of having to ignore the whispers and looks of the public and the tactless remarks of the media about his current loss of popularity. His only distraction from the harrying eyes of the press and the public is Amamiya. He always seems to find time to meet with the detective in spite of his own double life. Akechi only reluctantly admits it, but their outings are always refreshing to him. But beyond that, it’s also three weeks of not exchanging a single word with Ayano. It’s not as if he doesn’t ever get the opportunity to text or even call her, he just doesn’t feel the need to. And if the fact that she doesn’t contact him either is anything to go by, neither does she. He only slightly worries she’ll assume their deal is off and never talk to him again; it would be highly impractical for him.

So, after these three weeks, he decides to plan a date with Ayano. It’s not only to keep in touch with her, but also because he believes she at least deserves some sort of compensation. He just prays she’ll answer as he dials her number on a Sunday afternoon.

_“Yes?”_

“Good evening, Ayano-san. Do you have time to chat?”

_“Yeah. Do you need anything?”_

Akechi chuckles. “No, I merely wanted to invite you on a date again.”

A short silence. _“Why?”_

“Do I need a reason to see my girlfriend?” She doesn’t say anything to that, and he guesses she must not be convinced by his explanation. “It’s just as thanks for your… kindness. When are you free?”

_“You’re the one with a busy schedule.”_

“What about next Saturday then? I was thinking of inviting you out for lunch.”

_“That works for me.”_

“Then let’s say 11:45, Shinjuku. Will this be fine?”

_“Yeah, I’ll be there. Any dress code?”_

Surely it would be gauche for him to dictate how she should dress, but since she’s being so forward he supposes he can allow himself to follow up. “Perhaps you could wear something casual but elegant?”

She hums thoughtfully. _“Understood. Anything else I should know?”_

Akechi almost frowns at how distant, even business-like she remains. It vaguely reminds him of the way he talks when Shido calls to give him his orders, and the thought is nauseating. “No. I’ll see you next weekend then.”

_“Yeah. See you.”_

Now that it’s confirmed with her, he needs to make a reservation in a restaurant. It’s a matter that’s quickly taken care of, his name eliciting glee from the receptionist. He even manages to get one of the more secluded tables, figuring Ayano would appreciate putting some distance between herself and the other patrons. All that is left now is to wait.

The next Saturday, Akechi stands outside of the station as it became almost routine to do; he’s arrived early as usual, earning the attention of two schoolgirls on a weekend outing. He manages to get them to leave him be just as he receives a text indicating Ayano’s arrival. He’s opted to go without his briefcase or his tie today, hoping it would attract less attention to him and therefore to her as well, but he can only be so discreet in a such crowded place. A few minutes later, he spots his date walking his way, her ruffled dress flowing in the wind. She kept her hair natural today, but the makeup is there and she’s wearing a straw hat that casts a light shadow on her face.

“Hello, Ayano-san.”

“Hi.” She readjusts her hat. “Is this fine?”

“You’re very pretty,” he confirms. “Navy blue looks good on you.”

“I’m glad you like it.” She shifts on her feet and hums. “Where are you taking me?”

“Ah, we’ll be taking the subway to Akasaka-Mitsuke. I'll pay your fare.” He smiles brightly at her.

“Oh, that’s… You shouldn’t, I'll gladly paid for it.”

“Nonsense.” He stops her and guides her to the subway. They wait in comfortable silence for their train, Ayano standing calmly by his side, hands joined in front of her. The conversation is resumed when they get on the train, Akechi shielding her from the other passengers.

“What have you been up to for the past month?” he asks her.

“Oh, well… Nothing much. Studying and reading, as usual.”

“Did the exams go well for you?”

“I scored third in my class.” She lowers her voice then. “Is that enough?”

_Enough? For me?_ “Don’t worry. You did well.”

“What about you? Did you manage?”

Did she not see his name in the results? Akechi breaks into a proud smile. “I scored first of the school.”

“You really work hard.”

He sees something like genuine admiration in her eyes, and the feeling isn’t so bad. “Ah, well… Let’s celebrate today, then, shall we?” He chuckles.

“Celebrate your results?”

“And yours as well. This day is yours, Ayano-san.”

They get off the train and Akechi takes the lead, keeping the destination a surprise. As they walk, he notices she’s reaching higher than usual, and a glance down reveals she’s wearing shoes that help her almost close the height gap; the heels click pleasantly on the sidewalk. Since she’s keeping silent, he diverts her attention to her posture and demeanor. She carries herself well and her stride is effortless, but there are still signs of anxiety in the way she occasionally lowers the brim of her hat over her eyes which dart from passerby to passerby.

They start to talk about the exams and he explains some of her mistakes to her as she listens intently to him. She seems to relax, her undivided attention on him while they walk in the streets of Chiyoda. However, when they arrive in front of the restaurant he picked for their lunch date, the anxiety returns in her eyes and she stills.

“A French restaurant?”

Did he somehow screw up again? “I remembered you mentioned going to one of those before. I’ve never tried French food, so I was hoping you could initiate me.” A pause. His voice is unsure and he doesn’t bother trying to hide it. “Did I… mess up by picking the place? I’m sorry…”

“No, not at all! I was just… thinking it might be a bit expensive.”

It’s a lie, but he won’t pick up on it. “Ah, you don’t have to worry! It’s on me.”

“Then you have to pay for two, and that doesn’t make it any better… If we’re really going then let me pay as well.”

“That would be ungentlemanly of me now, wouldn’t it? Don’t worry, I assure you I can afford it. I am frequently given bonuses for solving cases and appearing on the TV, after all.”

Ayano considers the door for a few seconds before she gives up. “Okay. Thank you for inviting me.”

Akechi pushes and holds the door open, gesturing for her to go in before he follows her. They find themselves in a bar, patrons chatting and drinking cheerfully. A waiter greets them on his way to a table, tray in hand.

“Hello and welcome, esteemed customers! Where would you like to sit?”

“The restaurant,” he smiles. “I made a reservation for two last weekend.”

“If I may ask your name, sir?”

“Akechi Goro.” He’s a bit surprised the guy hadn’t realized already, but after all he’s more popular among younger, mostly female publics, so it’s not that big of a surprise. However, at the mention of his name, the waiter’s eyes seem to light up.

“Ah, it’s you! We’re most happy to have you today.” The man makes an effort to nod at Ayano as well, but Akechi can feel the words are mostly directed towards himself. “If you could just wait a few seconds…”

“Of course.”

The waiter quickly brings the drinks he’s carrying to a group of men sitting at the terrace and returns promptly. “Please follow me, I will show you to your table right away.”

The restaurant section of the establishment is still mostly empty, though they are not the first to arrive. A couple of middle-aged, proper-looking patrons sitting at a table on the sides turn their head to the two teenagers, eyebrows rising in incredulity as they exchange whispers. Akechi holds back a scoff at their reaction, turning his attention back to the waiter, who gestures politely towards a table in a corner of the room before handing them the menu as they sit.

“Oh, the prices actually aren’t so bad…” Ayano mumbles.

Scanning the list of dishes, each name more unfamiliar than the last, Akechi chuckles nervously. “I’ll be counting on your help here. I’m kind of lost.”

Facing him, she somehow looks even less confident. “Um… Yeah. I’ll do my best.”

“Ah, but I hope I’m not putting pressure on you… I didn’t mean to do that.”

“Right.”

Quite obviously, that didn’t help. Akechi thinks he should probably stop talking. Glancing up at her from the menu, he watches her close her eyes. She seems to collect herself and releases a shaky breath, before tucking some strands of hair behind an ear.

“Alright. I’m… familiar with most of the dishes on this menu, so if you’re curious about anything, ask me.”

“Well… What would you recommend?”

“Hm, let’s see… Would you rather have meat or seafood?”

They get into an animated discussion on French food, and they’re both so focused on Ayano’s explaining of the various dishes available that they barely notice a waiter bringing them bread and water. Ayano falls silent as she concludes her explanation, eyeing the bread with poorly concealed interest.

“French bread, huh,” Akechi muses. “I heard it’s actually quite popular.”

“Because it’s superior.”

He chuckles again at her sudden enthusiasm.

The waiter appears again, holding a pen and notepad. “Are you ready to order?” He smiles pleasantly.

Ayano glances at Akechi and swallows, before reciting both their orders in a fluent mix of Japanese and French. The man smiles in delight and absconds, leaving her alone with Akechi who watches her stare intently at the table, her face flushed and hands trembling.

“Do you happen to know French?” he says with a smile.

“I just… kind of practiced the pronunciation a little so I wouldn’t embarrass myself in restaurants!” It’s her turn to giggle nervously.

“You could have just read the names in Japanese.”

“Ah, um… yes, I suppose I could have.” She pulls her hat down, covering her red ears with the brim, eliciting a chuckle from Akechi.

“You could have let me order for you if you’re too shy to do it. After all, it’s on me today, right?”

She finally raises her head to stare at him. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to steal the limelight.”

“It’s quite alright.” He watches her reach for the water and pour some in his glass. “Ah, by the way, there’s something I’ve been meaning to discuss with you. I’m curious about your opinion.”

She hums. “Yes, go ahead.”

“I’m sure you’ve heard about the Phantom Thieves of Hearts, haven’t you?”

“I have.”

“I’d like to know what you think about them. Do you agree with their sense of justice?”

“What I think about them, huh…”

“Please answer honestly if you can,” he says, trying to reassure her. “It’s not a trick question.”

“I think they’re a bunch of self-righteous individuals who think they can take the law into their own hands.” Ayano taps her fingers on the table, her gaze lost. “But self-righteousness isn’t necessarily a bad thing.”

“Do you agree with their actions?”

“Well, while it can’t be bad to make someone regret their immoral behavior, I doubt the changes of hearts were done through a friendly chat around some tea… right? How do they change their targets’ mindset so radically?” She rests her chin in her hand, thoughtful. “Changing one’s heart… It sounds like a kind of emotional manipulation to me. I couldn’t approve of that.”

“What if their methods are truly peaceful? After all, no harm came to any of their previous targets.”

“Regardless of their methods, they’re changing hearts against their targets’ will. Even if it’s for the best, I see it as a violation of others and I can’t agree with that.”

“I see.”

“But…”

_But?_ He reciprocates her earlier gesture and serves her water. “Yes?”

“Sometimes relying on the law—or the system, or whatever you want to call it—to save and protect the victims just doesn’t work. They may be criminals, but you’ve got to admit they get things done more efficiently than the forces of law and order.”

“So you have mixed feelings about them.”

“Yeah, that’s it.” Ayano leans back into her seat. “I’ll tell you a secret: if it were me, I wouldn’t care enough about others to go out of my way and help them.”

“Really?”

Akechi’s surprised expression seems to embarrass her and she shrinks into the chair, her eyes once again cast downwards. “I’m sorry. Please forget I said that.”

“No, don’t be sorry.”

His attention is diverted to movement in the corner of his eye. The waiter is bringing them their starters already, setting the dishes down on the table. Akechi can’t help but stare curiously at her chosen entrée. The waiter wishes them “bon appétit” before vanishing again, leaving Ayano smiling bashfully. Her discomfort only increases when she notices her date’s insistent staring.

“Are those snails?”

“Yes. My fath—” She stops, visibly upset, before deeply sighing. “My father is quite fond of these, so I thought I could try them.”

His gaze doesn’t leave her face as she stabs the snail fork into the shell before pulling out a little piece of dark meat and bringing it to her mouth. He’s not sure what to think of it.

Her eyes widen. “This is actually good. I like it.”

“May I try as well?”

Instinctively he reaches for her plate, but she acts faster than him and jabs another snail, extracting it from its shell and holding it out to him over the table. He suppresses a scowl at the gesture and looks at her inquisitively. _Is she trying to feed me? Gross…_ But he decides to humor her anyway, leaning in and closing his lips on the small fork.

Well, he could have taken it from her hand too.

The taste is unlike anything he has eaten so far in his life, but despite the unrefined visual aspect it’s actually edible. “Not bad.”

She considers him for a few long seconds, before breaking into a genuine smile. “I’m glad you don’t find it disgusting.” She chuckles breathily.

The conversation mostly stops there for their lunch, save for a few comments on how foreign the food tastes and how new the experience is for Akechi. Ayano hums in acknowledgement of his remarks, but he can see she’s lost in thought, her eyes drifting around, taking in the scene.

“Ayano-san?”

Having finished her main course, she gently sets down her cutlery. “Yeah?”

“Is there something on your mind?”

She sighs. “It’s nothing much. I won’t bother you with it.”

“You can turn to me if you need someone to talk to, you know?”

He didn’t quite sign up to become her counselor, but if he must, he’ll lend an ear. But quite evidently she knows he’s not particularly thrilled to deal with her troubles. “You don’t owe me anything.” She shakes her head dismissively and waves a delicate hand at their surroundings. “This already is a lot.”

He opts to say nothing to that. Desserts are brought, then coffee, and she marvels at the pattern drawn on the surface of the drinks. He’s in such surprisingly good spirits that when she steals his sugar to add to her own cup, he doesn’t even feel pissed off in the slightest. He doesn’t know why such a mundane activity as dating feels oddly relaxing to him today, but he guesses it’s because it’s a nice change of pace from his double life.

Speaking of which, he wonders what Amamiya is up to.

“So, Ayano-san, do you have any plans for the summer break?” he asks her on their way back to Shinjuku.

“Just like always, I guess. Study and work. What about you?”

“Ah, I’d say it will be mostly the same as you. I do have some schoolwork to catch up on, and if these Phantom Thieves continue their exploits, I expect I will be quite busy... Not to mention, there’s also the matter of this Medjed group.” Although it’s not like he’ll have to do anything about that in truth.

“I’m sure I don’t need to remind you, but do take some time for yourself every so often.”

“I will, don’t worry. And I’ll be in contact with you as well.”

She laughs. “Read a book instead.”

He bids her farewell at the station as usual, disappearing into the subway to return home himself. He keeps Ayano on his mind for a short while, entertaining a thought. She flinched earlier, when she mentioned her father, and it reminded him of that time at the shrine when she talked about coming here with her family. What was she about to say then? _M… Like “mother”?_

He needs to figure out what’s up with her family. Fortunately, he has just the idea of how to do that.


	10. a voyage (Justice)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An expedition into unknown territory leads him to discover something interesting about her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Parca, my dear Lady, take another Spindle in your Hand: I have lain very long in the Bed of Nothing, and I had rather continue an Hundred years still without a Being, than to Be to day, that I may repent of it to morrow: However, Be you must, it was to no purpose for you to whimper and squall, to be back again, at the long and darksome House they drew you out of, they made as if they believed you cryed for the Teat."  
>  — _The comical history of the states and empires of the worlds of the moon and sun_ , Savinien Cyrano de Bergerac, _translated by A. Lowell_

Akechi hates summer. Everything burns, the air is heavy and oppressive, his hands are constantly sweaty due to his leather gloves and he feels like he’s melting into oblivion every time he has to wear his stupid signature jacket. For a proper gentleman such as him, summer is not a fashionable season. However, summer does have one redeeming quality and that is the one-month-long break. His school work is quickly taken care of, leaving him with only a few public appearances to deal with, courtesy of his declining popularity, and no shutdowns or breakdowns to cause. And while he initially expected to spend his break studying alone or occasionally helping the police with cases, save for perhaps a couple of short dates with Ayano, he finds himself hanging out with Amamiya instead.

It started out with an outing to a popular café in July, and somehow led to a tentative venture to Jazz Jin a month later. Akechi didn’t quite know what to expect when he decided on a whim to take Amamiya to his go-to club on the pretense of working to gain his trust, but somehow realized along the line that he was actually enjoying his time with Amamiya. It felt like a welcome distraction from the celebrity life and the matters related to the conspiracy, every-present at the back of his mind. It took Akechi’s mind off everything so easily that he nearly forgot he had planned on asking Ayano something during the break.

Wednesday.

Akechi picks up his phone on the coffee table and dials Ayano’s number. As always, she answers swiftly. _“Hi, Akechi-san.”_

“Hey. I’m sorry for not calling any earlier. How have you been?”

She takes only a second more than necessary to answer. _“As usual. What about you?”_

“I’ve been well, thank you for asking. Ah, but I wanted to ask you something myself.”

_“Go ahead.”_

“A month ago or so, you said your mother wanted to meet me, correct?”

Silence. Slowly, like she’s measuring her words, afraid of something, she speaks. _“Yes.”_

“Is… that still on the table? I know it’s quite forward of me to ask, but in truth, I’d love to meet your parents.”

Her words are delayed again, and Akechi finds it very interesting. _“I thought you’d be too busy.”_

“I thought so as well, but it turns out I’ve been allowed a break from work. I thought I should make the most of it.”

_“When would you want to come? I’ll go ask.”_

“I was thinking this weekend, if it’s alright with your family. I know it’s a bit short-notice, but…”

 _“This weekend?”_ Her voice comes out nearly choked.

“If it doesn’t work for you, I can make sure to be free on the next weekend.”

Something like a minute elapses before she sighs in defeat. _“Just a sec. I’ll ask my mom.”_

Akechi smirks; he’s finally getting somewhere. On the other end of the call, he hears faint sounds of footsteps and muffled voices—women’s voices, one of them, no doubt her mother’s, livelier than the other. A few seconds after the exchange he couldn’t follow, Ayano’s voice rings clear again.

 _“This weekend is fine. We’ll be happy to have you.”_ Akechi frowns. It doesn’t sound like she will be. _“Oh, my mom says you could even stay the night if you’d like.”_

“Ah, I wouldn’t want to impose…”

That most likely wouldn’t be needed, and he initially hopes she will take the hint and move on, but then a part of him is looking forward to the prospect of getting a glimpse of her life at home. He’s almost convinced she’s going to drop the issue when she finally replies in a small voice. _“It’s up to you. I don’t mind.”_

He hesitates only a little. “Then… I’d like to, yeah.”

Akechi hears her hum in acknowledgement, followed by the sound of footsteps again as she presumably returns to her room. _“I live in Kodaira. Our station is on the Seibu-Shinjuku line. Just text me when you’re on your way and I’ll come pick you up.”_ They agree on a time and Ayano helps him choose a gift for her parents before they end what has been their longest call yet.

He doesn’t even wait for the next day to start his search. Fortunately, as he knows the stores in his area quite well, he is able to quickly find what he needs: chocolates for Ayano’s family, picking the flavors according to her recommendation. He also grabs various additional snacks specially for her, feeling uncharacteristically generous today. The store’s clerk accepts his money with a giggle, eyeing the many sweets the detective is carrying in his arms. He answers the lady’s amused look with a smile so sweet he hopes it will literally melt her down. However she remains perfectly solid and structurally intact and tells him to come back soon in a disgustingly saccharine voice. He leaves the store and decides never to come back.

After finding an elegant packaging solution, Akechi returns home at last, setting down his supplies on the kitchen counter before letting himself drop down into the couch. Pulling out his phone, he opens the notes app and sets about making a list of what he needs to take for his sleepover at Ayano’s.

_A sleepover, huh…_

Even though it sounds so childish and frivolous, he can’t help but look forward to it a little. An opportunity to pretend, maybe just once, that he’s living a normal life. The sort of life that’s forbidden to children of his circumstances. The sort of life that man robbed him of.

The phone vibrates in his hand.

_Ayano — Sorry to bother you again, I just need to ask a couple things_

_Sure, ask away._

_Ayano — Do you have any allergies?_

_I get hay fever. Other than that, nothing that I know of._

He glares menacingly at the bottle of nasal spray on the coffee table. It’s hard to keep a princely look when your face is liquefying itself, and the damn thing is barely any help.

_Ayano — I hope you’re not allergic to cats. Guess you’ll find out_

_You have a cat?_

_Ayano — We do_

_I look forward to meeting him or her in person._

_Ayano — It’s a him_

_Ayano — Is there anything you’d like to eat? Or anything you really wouldn’t like?_

_I’m not a picky eater. Don’t worry about me._

_Ayano — Eh, well if you get an idea of something you’d like, send a text my way_

_Ayano — I’ll go do groceries on Friday_

_It’s very considerate of you. Thank you._

A moment of hesitation. Akechi taps his nail on the screen, pondering how to word his thought before giving up.

_I’ll see you this Saturday then._

_Ayano — Yeah, see you_

Days pass.

Akechi doesn’t quite get the butterflies as he rides the train to Kodaira. He doesn’t, yet he finds himself having trouble focusing on his book, reading the same sentence three times in the span of ten minutes without registering its meaning. He then opts to watch the scenery pass before his eyes but quickly loses interest in the boring landscapes. It’s not like he can see much outside with the lack of sunlight anyways. His hand finds the phone in his pocket, eager for a distraction.

_How do you survive these train rides? I think I might die of boredom before I get there._

Thoughtlessly, he contacts his schoolmate, hoping she will indulge his need for conversation. She doesn’t take too long to reply.

_Ayano — I try to recall lines from plays I read_

_Ayano — Or I read, as a matter of fact_

_I tried bringing a book for the ride, but I can’t seem to focus._

_Ayano — And thus you turn to me for entertainment._

_Ayano — What do you know of Greek mythology?_

_I know little other than the basics._

_I know the major gods and their functions, along with a couple stories from mythology._

_Ayano — Do you know of Oedipus?_

_The name rings a bell, but do refresh my memory._

_Ayano — He was the son of the king and queen of Thebes, prophesized to one day murder his father and lie with his mother._

_Ayano — In an effort to avoid the prophecy, his parents abandoned the child and he eventually found himself adopted by the king and queen of Corinth, who were without children._

_Ayano — When Oedipus learned of the prophecy, he decided never to return to Corinth in fear of harming his family and instead traveled back to Thebes._

_Ayano — On the road to the city, he encountered a man with whom he got into a quarrel, and unwittingly proceeded to kill what was in fact the King of Thebes, his true father._

_Ayano — Reaching the city, he meets a Sphinx who asks all travelers a riddle and devours any who fails to answer correctly. Oedipus solves the riddle, freeing Thebes of the Sphinx, and he becomes king of Thebes and is given the hand of his mother in marriage._

_Ayano — They had four children._

_Ayano — Eventually the truth is revealed, the Queen of Thebes hangs herself and Oedipus blinds himself and leaves in exile._

_Ayano — If you’ve heard of Freud’s Oedipus complex, that’s where the name comes from._

_Yes, that’s where I first heard the name._

_Isn’t it ironic how one often brings about the very same fate one sought to avoid?_

_Had Oedipus returned to his adoptive family, perhaps none of these tragic events would have happened._

_But I find it more likely that fate would have found a way to play out either way._

_Ayano— But he did flee to try and protect his adoptive family, didn’t he? Even if the attempt was futile in the end._

_Ayano — When faced with options that seem equally bad, I think one should still try to make things better, even if only slightly, even if it seems hopeless._

_Ayano — If anything, more as a statement than a real hope for change_

_Have you experienced such a situation yourself, Ayano-san?_

“Our next stop is Kodaira. Kodaira.” Akechi raises his head from the screen of his phone, glancing at the window, and mentally concedes turning to Ayano for a distraction wasn’t such a bad idea. The detective grabs his things and walks to the nearest door to wait for his stop, the phone never leaving his hand. It vibrates a little later.

_Ayano — Something like that_

_Ayano — I’m waiting for you in the station_

Akechi’s train enters the station and slows to a halt; he gets off and leaves the platform. And there she is indeed, standing dutifully near a wall before she sees him and they walk towards each other, finding his smile is perhaps not as strained as usual when he physically greets her at last. Ayano’s expression remains unreadable, and the sunglasses she’s sporting doesn’t help him in his attempt to read her.

“Sorry for the getup.” She gestures to the shades and bucket hat she’s wearing. “I’m still trying to protect my identity, you know.”

She turns and walks away, wordlessly inviting him to follow her.

“You don’t look bad, though.” Oversized black t-shirt tucked into loose boyfriend jeans—while it differs from what he’s seen her wearing so far, the casual style of her outfit fits her just fine. And to be honest, he’s almost envious of her with how comfortable it looks.

“Just not in tune with your style, right?”

“That’s not necessarily a bad thing now, is it? What fun is there in a relationship with a mirror image of oneself?”

“No offense, but you look like the kind of guy who’d be just narcissistic enough to be into that.”

Her tone is cynical and even somewhat hostile and it sounds so out-of-character coming from her that Akechi can’t help but freeze for a second before the shock transforms into scalding, but brief and repressed anger. Ayano’s own reaction is as quick as his, tension melting into a puddle of shame before his eyes.

“I’m sorry, that was uncalled for.” _Maybe she’s just on the rag. Great._ “I shouldn’t have said that. I don’t even know you…”

Akechi’s anger fades a little at that. “Bad day?”

“Something like that.”

That answer again. “Is it anything you’d like to talk about? Is it maybe the same thing that’s been bothering you at the restaurant last time?”

“Huh. I didn’t expect you to remember that.” She hums. “Well, yeah. It’s related, I guess.”

“Trouble at home?”

She looks at him like he just splashed water on her face and her steps slow for a split second, before she lowers her gaze. “Eh… I wouldn’t say that. But it’s nothing I’d want to bother you with anyways.”

This girl sure is stubborn when she wants to be, Akechi thinks. But while he’s wondering what he should say in this situation, Ayano seems to start next to him, eyes lighting up in realization behind her shades.

“Oh, but I hadn’t considered the possibility that you might be asking out of concern for your public image. Indeed, it would be most justified for you to worry that controversial facts might eventually be discovered about me, leading to the public viewing this relationship as a blemish on your pristine image. Surely then, you would most likely…” A pause; she seems distraught by a thought, then sighs. “Sorry, bad habit of mine.”

Well, it had been a while since he last heard her mumble to herself in such a fashion. But besides that, she somehow managed to hit the nail spot-on; or so he should think. “Well… I don’t mean to pry, but if I can do any good… Maybe my thoughts on the matter could provide you with some help? Meager as it may be…”

“If you keep on insisting, I’m going to drop my entire backstory on you and make you regret ever thinking of coming over for dinner.” She smiles.

Akechi chuckles effortlessly in response. “Maybe not the entire backstory, then.”

“Right. We’ll start small.” Her smile falls but only for a moment. “Oh, but actually, I mentioned Oedipus earlier because I was thinking of Antigone, one of the two daughters born from his incestuous union with his mother. She was made the heroine of Sophocles’ eponymous play. You know Sophocles?”

“I must admit I don’t, but by his name I would assume he was a tragedian of Ancient Greece?”

“And you’d be right on that,” she grins, his reply obviously making her happy. “He is one of the three best known Ancient Greek tragedians. He wrote plays based on the myth of Oedipus and his children. The third play, _Antigone_ , roughly goes like this: after Oedipus’ death, his two sons fight over the Theban throne. Polyneices is driven out by his brother Eteocles, only to return with an army and attack the city. The two brothers kill each other, so Creon, who is Oedipus’s uncle and brother-in-law by the way, becomes King of Thebes. He declares that Polyneices’ actions make him a traitor to Thebes and condemns his corpse to remain unburied, which at the time was pretty uncool.”

“It would have had to do with their beliefs regarding death and the rites owed to the departed, wouldn’t it?”

“Yeah. Something about the soul of the dead not going to Hades if the body isn’t buried, and instead wandering aimlessly and probably causing problems to the living.”

“I’d hazard burial rites were all first elaborated with such an idea in mind.”

“It’s likely. Assuming you believed in some form of afterlife, you wouldn’t want your kin to just—” she gestures around; “—stay stuck. Here.”

“Do you believe in “some form of afterlife”?”

“Hard to say. I’ve thought about it a couple of times, but I’m not fond of philosophizing about death. I’d rather think about life instead.”

“Have you ever lost someone, Ayano-san?”

“No.”

“Those who have might find comfort in the belief that their deceased loved ones are in a better place, or that they’re watching over them from somewhere.”

“What about you?”

“I have.”

She stays silent for a couple of seconds, only blinking at him. “Ah, I meant to ask if you believed in an afterlife of some kind.”

Oh. He thought… well, never mind. “I don’t, not really.”

“I don’t know about you, but I’d find more comfort in the thought that dead people’s spirits don’t linger in any form, that they just…. return whence they came. A void, or oblivion if you will.”

“I think I see what you mean. I’d be inclined to agree with you there.”

“There was this book I read not so long ago…” she mumbles, waving a hand about, as if collecting her thoughts from the air around her. “Oh, I have it, but to translate it… It had this idea in it that when you are born, your soul is first pulled from the matrix of nature’s ideas—understand here, matrix as in a womb—and enters your body. And it says that what we believe is the newborn crying for its mother’s breast is actually a cry from the soul lamenting having to leave this “long and dark house” it was forcefully extracted from.” She smirks.

“A peculiar choice of words there. Was it thus in the original work?”

“The long and dark house bit? Yeah, author’s wording. The matrix of nature’s ideas is as such in the original text as well. I know this short excerpt nearly by heart because it struck me when I first read it. So I memorized it.”

Akechi thinks. “You were having trouble translating the idea, though. Was it not in Japanese?”

“Er… no, it wasn’t.”

“Are you perhaps bilingual then?”

“Something along those lines.”

His first assumption of her second language is English; she does have good grades in the subject at school, after all. But he recalls her order at the French restaurant and the way the foreign sounds rolled off her tongue so easily. She denied speaking the language then, but…

A few seconds of silence; Ayano’s gaze loses itself on the pavement. Akechi resumes the conversation.

“You’re better-read than I first made you out to be,” he admits.

“It’s just an impression.” She grins.

“I’ll take your word for it then.” He smiles gently. “But you were trying to tell me about Antigone, weren’t you?”

“Oh my,” she says, flustered. “I keep getting sidetracked, don’t I? Sorry…”

“Don’t be. I’m actually enjoying this conversation.”

Ayano looks at him suspiciously and her expression turns puzzled. He’s surprised as well; here they are, after he initially thought he wouldn’t ever come to discuss philosophy with her. Perhaps he could lend her some of his books; he hardly has any use for them anymore.

“Where was I before? I’ll try to wrap it up quickly. Ah, right, the unburial. So Antigone isn’t too fond of the idea of leaving her brother like that and attempts to bury him anyways, defying Creon’s orders. She gets caught and is sentenced to death, but Creon changes his mind and decides to spare her. However he finds she’s already hung herself; her fiancé, Creon’s son, stabs himself to death and Creon’s wife the queen commits suicide as well after the death of her son. Cheerful, isn’t it?”

“It was a tragedy, after all.” Akechi shrugs. “I actually remember reading about Antigone before. I think it was in one of Hegel’s works. According to the author, Antigone symbolized the “divine law” as opposed to “human law”, which is represented by Creon in the myth.”

“Hegel… Rings a bell. German philosopher?”

“Yes. So you’ve heard of him?”

“My father or I might have some of his works at home.”

“Your father? Is he a philosophy enthusiast?”

“You could say that. He’s responsible for filling two thirds of my bookshelf.”

“And the last third?”

“Books for school. Works we studied in class or that my teachers recommended.”

They make another turn and Ayano falls silent; Akechi notices a few stray signs of growing tension, and he guesses they are approaching their destination, which he quickly finds to be right. She climbs the few steps leading to a door and stills, keys in hand, standing there in silence for a minute. Eventually she seems to get it together and sighs in annoyance. “Fuck it all.”

The keys turn in the lock and she pushes the door open. “I’m home.”

“Pardon me for intruding,” Akechi says behind Ayano.

She takes off her shoes and he imitates her.

“Oh, by the way,” she murmurs, “we don’t have slippers, so I hope you’re fine with that.”

“I don’t mind,” he replies with a smile.

Shuffling steps are heard in the living room, along with whispering voices, and soon after a short but lean woman emerges from the room. Her hands are clasped in front of her and her face is beaming, though her features are tired.

“It’s an honor to meet you,” he says and bows politely. “My name is Akechi Goro. Thank you for having me.”

“Welcome, welcome. I am Ayano’s mother, Yabusaki Fuyuko. Delighted to meet you as well.”

He pulls out the small gift he prepared and holds it out to her. “This isn’t much, but please have this.”

“Oh my, you didn’t need to. Thank you.” Her response is oddly casual and he finds himself vaguely puzzled, but his attention is soon directed elsewhere.

Next to him, Ayano tenses up again just as a tall figure clad in a dark apron appears at the kitchen door. The man easily reaches Akechi’s height, and he thought he was pretty tall himself… by Japanese standards. For once he has to look slightly up at the man facing him as they wordlessly stare each other in the eye. At last, he extends a hand in greeting, and Akechi firmly shakes it. It’s the key to a good first impression, so he’s read.

The man only utters a name as his introduction. “Adam Desjardins.” The detective resists an urge to glance at Ayano at the effortless pronunciation. _That explains that._ “Ah, but I suppose it would make more sense to introduce myself as Yabusaki Adam.”

“Honored to meet you” is the only thing he can say faced by this impressive gentleman, who nods at him in response.

Ayano yanks her hat and shades off her head before letting her hair down with audible relief in the form of a sigh. Her body language spells comfort and confidence, but the slight shaking of her limbs betrays her.

“We’ll be right back, just going to show Akechi-kun around and put his things down in my room.”

He bows once more for good measure and follows her upstairs, as she shows him the way around her home. Right as she opens the door to her small bedroom, she lets out a cheerful high-pitched sound which is followed by a cat meowing, and her previous stress melts away in the blink of an eye.

“Soba! My sweet boo, hello!”

The cat meows again and jumps down from her desk chair to rub himself on her leg, turning to the stranger curiously.

Akechi kneels down, gently dropping his bag to the floor. Soba takes a few cautious steps in his direction and he holds out a hand. The cat sniffs it and seemingly decides its smell is satisfactory, bumping his soft head on it. Akechi hesitantly pets him, looking at Ayano for validation.

She validates.

“He seems like a fine fellow.” He stands up and moves his bag to the end of the bed. Soba follows the gesture and proceeds to thoroughly inspect the item.

“He is.” She chuckles. “I’m a bit surprised he accepted you so easily, to be honest. We don’t usually receive any visitors, so I wasn’t sure how he’d react to a stranger in the house.”

“You don’t invite friends over to your home?”

Ayano sits on her bed. “No, you’re the first person I’ve brought home. I’m sure you can figure out why, Mr. Detective.”

“You’re a _half_.”

“Guilty as charged.”

He hums. “That explains you being bilingual, as well as your smooth pronunciation at the restaurant that other day. And I suppose I understand why you were reluctant to have me come over.”

“Touché.” She smirks. “To be fair, from what I’ve seen of you so far, I want to believe you’re not the kind of person who cares about that.”

“Why would you care either?”

“I got tired of other children and people in general treating me differently,” she explains. “But then I changed school, leaving behind all the kids I knew. I could start with a slate wiped clean. As you can see, I was fortunate enough to inherit most of my mother’s features, the ones that make a person look Japanese; so, from there, all I had to do was be mindful of my demeanor and I could pass off as a perfectly normal Japanese child, blend into my surroundings, and live in peace.”

“If those wonderful genetics of yours are enough to overshadow your other half, how did those kids even learn you were a _half_ in the first place?”

“Oh, I was... “famous” back in primary school. The others didn’t even know I was a _half_ at first; they knew me by rumors passed down since fucking preschool. But then one day, some kid turned up saying she had seen me at that park with a _gaijin_ man. I may have grown a grudge against my father after that,” she chuckles bitterly.

_I’d have killed to be in your position._

“Anyways, shall we go back downstairs?”

“Yeah.” He nods. “Let’s go.”

Akechi follows her down the wooden stairs, the cat on their heels. An unusual but savory smell wafts from the kitchen, holding the promise of yet another exotic meal. Inside, Ayano’s mother is setting the table, placing cutlery next to every plate. Her father is at the stove, stirring something with a wooden spoon.

Soba jumps on one of the chairs and meows, without doubt eager to taste the foreign cuisine.

“Shoo, that’s my chair,” Ayano laughs as she picks him up and gently drops him to the floor. She turns to Akechi and gestures to the chair next to hers. “Sit down if you please, make yourself comfortable. Dinner will be served shortly.”

“Thanks.”

“Ah, Akechi-kun,” her mother begins, “would you prefer chopsticks or are you fine with cutlery?”

“Cutlery’s fine,” he replies as he takes a seat. “Thank you, ma’am.”

“Can you get the drinks, Ayano?” she says to her daughter.

Adam adds something in what Akechi assumes is French; whatever it is, Ayano complies and retrieves two bottles from the fridge, bringing them to the table. One is water, the other white wine.

“Would you guys like to drink some?” he asks casually, nodding towards the bottle of wine.

Ayano freezes. “Eh?”

“Ah, but I’m not allowed to drink yet,” Akechi opts to reply.

“It’s your call,” Adam says. “I don’t see any problem if you’re under our supervision.” Mrs. Yabusaki chuckles at that, apparently not having any problem with it either.

Akechi turns to Ayano, who still seems to be carefully considering the question. At last she looks like she’s made up her mind, and her eyes have a curious glint in them. “Then I’d like to try some!”

“You sound enthusiastic,” he comments.

She grabs bread and grated cheese and sets them on the table, sitting down with him. “I want to know. What wine tastes like.” She turns to him, looking contemplative. “I hope it will help me make up my mind.”

Before he can ask her what she means, her mother turns to them, hand on a cupboard. “What about you, Akechi-kun?” She smiles. “Don’t feel pressured to choose. It’s okay either way.”

“I’d like to try as well.” He glances at Ayano again. _Perhaps I will come to understand something then_ , he thinks, and that’s how he realizes she might have been thinking the same thing.

The woman pulls out four wine glasses and brings them to the table before retrieving a corkscrew from a drawer, opening the bottle of wine and serving it. She pours only a little in the teens glasses so they can taste it first. Akechi attempts to swirl the liquid around his glass like he’s seen adults do and discreetly evaluates its bouquet, even though he’s painfully clueless in this area. As for Ayano, she happily sniffs her drink and downs the drop of wine in the blink of an eye. Akechi imitates her, though with a bit more restraint. They look at each other as the taste sinks in.

For a fleeting moment, Ayano looks like she’s on the verge of either an epiphany or a mental breakdown. She closes her eyes meditatively, setting her glass down in front of her with a firm gesture.

“I’ll have some more!” she says, eyes practically sparkling.

Akechi only stares at her, speechless.

Her father chuckles again. “Now that’s my daughter.”

“Well, let’s not have her become a drunkard now, shall we?” her mother replies jokingly. “Will you have some more as well, Akechi-kun?”

“I wouldn’t mind.”

She serves the two again and corks the bottle before finally sitting down just as her husband brings a pan to the table. Ayano grabs the boy’s plate and holds it out for her father.

“I made the menu for today so if you don’t like it, I’m the one to blame,” she says apologetically as she gives him back his plate.

“I trust you.” He smiles and considers the pan. He doesn’t see any reason why he would dislike pasta and chicken.

“Have you ever tasted pesto?” Adam asks him.

“This will be the first time. What is it made of?” It’s not like he has any use for that info, but at least it shows he’s interested.

“Olive oil, Parmesan cheese, pine nuts, basil and garlic.”

Father and daughter stare at Akechi as he takes a confident first bite and hums. “It’s delicious,” he says after swallowing.

Ayano clenches a fist in victory and whispers a proud “yes”.

“Well then, let’s eat,” Adam says.

They all dig in—some with more enthusiasm than others, Akechi thinks as he looks at Ayano from the corner of his eye. A minute passes in silence, but he knows a conversation is inevitable. As expected, it’s Mrs. Yabusaki who initiates it.

“We’re thankful that you accepted to spare us some of your time, Akechi-kun. Has the summer break allowed you to rest so far?”

“Yes, I was allowed to take a break from work at least. That left me with a lot of time to study.”

“My, you’re very serious too, aren’t you? But remember it’s also important to take some time off from school work as well.”

“Ah, I recall your daughter telling me the same thing a few weeks ago.” He smiles.

Ayano briefly stops covering her plate in Parmesan and hums inquisitively. Finding nothing to add to the discussion, she quickly returns to her cheese.

“So I hear you’re a busy guy,” Adam begins. “Do you still find time to see each other?”

The slight narrowing of his eyes as he stares at Akechi tells the detective he’s warier of his daughter’s boyfriend than his wife is. It seems he still has to earn the man’s approval. “Well, it isn’t always easy indeed, but I manage. Although our time together is sometimes cut short because of the unpredictable and changing nature of my work…”

“I mean,” Ayano says, “it’s not like either of us is the clingy type, right?”

She looks at Akechi for confirmation, and he nods. “Yes, I suppose that’s one way to put it.”

“Seems like you’re a good match then.”

“Oh, speaking of that, how were the news of your relationship received?” her mother asks. He’s about to reply when she elaborates in the worst way possible. “What do your parents think of it, Akechi-kun?”

“That’s…” He tries his best to maintain a cheerful disposition as he tries to think of an answer.

_I’m sorry ma’am, but I can’t tell you that because my mother is dead and my father is a national piece of—_

“Well… Actually, Akechi-kun lives alone.”

He watches her mother’s face turn a little grave. “Is that so…” she mutters dejectedly. He’s not sure how such a simple reply could be enough to shut the woman up, but he assumes she thinks it’s best not to press the issue further. Which it is.

Akechi exchanges a look with Ayano, mentally thanking her for working her magic. He recalls their conversation about the afterlife earlier and wonders if somehow she guessed he was an orphan, but there’s no way she did. Is there? Either way, he might have some explaining to do later.

“What about your fans?” Adam picks the question up. “How are they reacting so far?”

“Ah, I’m sure you can imagine… A lot of them are dying to know more. The common reaction is one of jealousy, but then there are those who accept it and those who… well, not so much.”

The man turns to his daughter. “You’re aware of what that implies, aren’t you?”

“I did know it was likely when I started dating Akechi-kun.”

“And are you ready to face the consequences of that choice? Because I’m not sure I am ready to let you face them.”

He’s not the kind to use kid gloves, is he?

Ayano only grins. “I think I’ll stop loitering in the city.”

“If students at Kosei come to recognize you and give you trouble because of me, please don’t hesitate to tell me,” Akechi says. “I can try and get the school staff to take measures against any nuisance.”

“I’ve seen that scenario a few times in fiction, one where the female protagonist gets bullied by jealous classmates because she gets to see the most popular boy at school, so they lock her up in a room.” She giggles. “Perhaps I should learn to pick locks.”

“I could teach you that,” he replies.

It seems to put a discreet smile on her father’s face, and the discussion comes to an end. Mrs. Yabusaki takes over, asking trivial questions on their relationship. Akechi replies dutifully to all of them and she listens, occasionally glancing at her daughter next to him, whose face is adorned by a mysterious smile. The woman must think she smiles out of happiness or infatuation, but Akechi knows better; he knows Ayano’s smiling at the half-truths he tells. He can’t tell what exactly she thinks of it, but regardless, she stays silent and allows him full control of the conversation.

She is the first to finish her plate and gets up from her seat. “Anyone want cheese or are we going straight to the dessert?”

“Dessert for me,” her mother says, chuckling.

“Same here,” Adam adds.

Ayano looks expectantly at Akechi. “I’m feeling quite full,” he says, “so I think I’ll pass on the cheese as well.”

“I hope you still have room for the dessert then, I actually helped to make it.” She pouts.

Plates are changed and dessert is brought to the table, Ayano in charge of the serving. She cuts square portions and delicately sets them on dessert plates, handing them to everyone.

“Tiramisu?”

“I thought it was a safe pick, since I know you like coffee,” she explains to him. “And it stays true to the theme.”

“The theme?”

“Casual Italian cuisine, or something like that.” She laughs.

The family dinner soon ends at last and Ayano’s parents get up to clean the table. Akechi hands them his dinnerware and rises from his seat, politely offering his help.

“Leave it,” Mrs. Yabusaki says with a smile. “We’ll take care of everything. You go enjoy your time here.”

“Thank you.” He bows and goes to follow Ayano who is leaving the room, when Adam’s deep voice calls him.

“I’d like to talk just a minute,” the man says in a murmur.

“Yes?” Akechi whispers back.

“I find Ayano’s been looking a bit down these past few weeks.” He pauses.

“Down? How so?”

“She looked pensive, conflicted, even sad at times. It’s been a while since I’ve seen her so expressive, but I wish she were happy instead. But tonight, she seems to be genuinely enjoying herself.”

 _She does._ Despite her initial anxiety, it all seemed to dissolve when Akechi finally learned what had been worrying her. From then, her mood obviously lightened.

“I’ll be honest,” Adam starts. “I had my doubts on you—don’t get me wrong, I still do—but after seeing you two together, I want to believe you have a positive impact on her somehow.”

Akechi thinks. “I’ll be there if she needs my help. I’ll do what I can.”

“Good.” They stare at each other in silence. “You go now.”

He nods and walks out, thoughtful, and almost misses Ayano, leaning against the wall with her arms crossed and her gaze cast downwards. She must have stayed to eavesdrop.

She leaves the wall to ascend the stairs, Akechi in tow. “Fancy a nightly walk with me?”

“Where to?”

“There’s a small park nearby.”

He supposes that’s as good a place to talk as any. “Let’s go.”


	11. we've updated our terms of service (Justice)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Akechi comes to face the consequences of his choice. He might have terrible taste in women.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you were hoping for Akechi and Ayano to share a bed in this arc, I have news for you. It's a no.  
>  This chapter was brought to you by the author scouring japancandystore.com's unholy catalogue and thinking: yum, sweet exports-imports.  
>  Another disclaimer concerning last chapter: Ayano having inherited "most of her mother's looks" is a nasty plot device. No, genetics don't really work like that. It's an insult to my years of high school. To all my science teachers who will never read this, I'm sorry.

Ayano enters her room and grabs a gray hoodie, tying it around her waist in case it gets cold. She looks around for a second and nods, finding nothing else to take with her. They climb down the staircase and she lets her parents know they’re going out.

They walk in silence. Akechi can’t tell if Ayano wants to talk or not, but he’s not having this silence either way. There are things he needs to know. So he takes a moment to organize his thoughts and structure his ideas, and initiates another conversation.

“How did you know I live alone?”

“I didn’t.” She shivers and throws her cropped hoodie on. “I just saw you were struggling to find a reply, so I made something up.”

“Were you trying to help me, then?”

“I guess. Did I mess it up?” She slides her hands into the pockets of her jeans.

“No. I don’t know what your parents assumed, but to be honest, I’m glad they didn’t inquire about it further.”

“They probably assumed you had a fall-out with your family.”

“Is that what you’d assume as well?”

A pause; she thinks of an answer. “I don’t know. It’s none of my business.”

“I wouldn’t mind telling you.”

“Up to you then. I won’t ask.”

He knows he doesn’t need to tell her, but for some obscure reason he feels like he “owes” her that much. “My mother passed away when I was a child. My father left before I was even born.”

Silence. Ayano looks vaguely conflicted. “My condolences?”

Akechi chuckles darkly. “You don’t mean it.”

“I do, I’m just not sure it’s what you want me to say.”

He considers her lengthily, thinking, trying to word a question. “There’s something I’ve been wondering, if you wouldn’t mind indulging me.”

She hums.

“You always act so distant and uninterested, yet you keep asking me how I want you to dress, what I want you to say. Why is that?”

Her neutral expression turns into a scowl. Akechi wonders if his wording was perhaps too honest. “Why, I thought it was what you wanted. Was it not?”

They enter a small park as he recalls her cynical tone back at the station. Could this be what her real feelings for him are? He knew her ever-pleasant disposition was as fake as his, but until now he never even briefly imagined that she could hate him. Until now…

He’s faced with two options: deny it, or be honest with her. If he denies it, Ayano won’t believe him. Clever as she is, she’ll see it’s just another one of his lies. Either it will fuel her anger and he’ll have to deal with the storm, or she will drop the matter entirely and the calm will settle instead. It’s a gamble. If he’s honest… It’s a similar experiment with similar outcomes, but he feels like she would at least appreciate his sincerity.

“Well…” he begins gently. “You’re right. I always worry about my public image, and I hoped I could…”

“Control me,” she says calmly. “You hoped you could control me.”

Her choice of word doesn’t faze him. Maybe it should? He decides he’ll at least pretend to be remorseful. “I’m sorry.”

Ayano stares at him, at least for half a minute, in silence. “I said it earlier. I had an idea of what I was getting into when I accepted to be your girlfriend.”

“So why did you agree?”

“Ah, I wonder…” She smiles briefly. “I first thought of it as a challenge of some sort.”

_First…?_

Akechi’s eyes land on a small fenced pond, reminding him of their first official date, and he stops there, leaning on the wooden railing. “A challenge.”

“Yeah. I have this wish, you know? That one day…” She chuckles. “No, forget it. It’s a dumb wish.”

“I’d like to hear it regardless.”

Her smile vanishes and she sighs. “I guess I just wish we could be honest with each other.”

A short silence. “For the record, I don’t think it’s a stupid wish.” Only a luxury he can’t afford. Can he?

“Maybe you’re right.” Ayano seems to curl up on herself. “I’m just tired, Akechi. I’m tired of lying.”

Akechi looks wordlessly at his reflection in the water. Melancholy is catching up to them both, he thinks. Maybe he shouldn’t have had that glass of wine after all.

Something to the side catches his eye—a light splashing sound followed by a strangled gasp, and faint waves in the water. Next to him, Ayano raises a hand to her face, blocking it from his view.

“Ayano-san…?”

“Sorry,” she croaks out and turns her back to him. “Sorry, just give me a minute.”

It’s another difference between the both of them. Whatever she’s been going through and however much it’s affected her, she still has tears to cry. Akechi has lost the ability to cry years ago. In a way, he’s almost jealous of her for that. But in the end, tears don’t ever change anything, do they? What moves things forward is rage; the will to fight, the spirit of rebellion.

After a minute, Ayano takes a deep breath and turns to him again, laughing bashfully. “Damn, I’ve become such a wreck…” She pulls on her sleeves and takes a few steps away from the pond. “Let’s move, shall we?”

They walk away, and Akechi finds himself feeling strangely comfortable. “Before we change the subject,” he starts, “I think that perhaps I can afford to be a little more honest with you.”

“Huh?”

“I guess you could be called a confidant of mine.” He smirks playfully.

Ayano stares and breaks into a grin. “A partner in crime.”

“Yeah.” She shoots finger guns at him and he smiles.

To be fair, it’s refreshing to him.

Ever since his first days at the orphanage, he learned to stop hoping for companionship. In his mind, that yearning was just unnecessary self-inflicted pain, persuaded as he was that no one would ever accept him as a friend. So he killed that hope—he thought he did. But that time at Jazz Jin with Amamiya told him enough: he never really stopped yearning. He wanted a proof that he wasn’t a disgrace after all, that he was worthy of… something along the lines of love.

But it doesn’t matter anymore. In the end, he can’t call anyone his friend if all he ever shows the world is a mask.

Not to mention, none of these bonds would last anyway. Amamiya is the leader of the Phantom Thieves, a criminal, an outlaw, and most of all he is Akechi’s sworn enemy. They will have to part ways soon. As for Ayano, he may end up having to dispose of her eventually too. Maybe one day, he will face her in the cognitive world and put lead between her shadow’s eyes. Then, a week later, black would run down her pretty face like ink, and her dark eyes would lose their shine…

He can see it. So clearly, as if she were dying right then and there.

“Akechi-san?”

He turns his gaze to her and freezes on the spot. She’s crying and drooling and dripping black ooze in front of him, eyes lifeless and throat straining to croak a few last words out. He steps back from the shock, and the vision recedes in the literal blink of an eye.

“Are you okay?”

Akechi clears his throat. “Yeah, I just… got lost in thought. Sorry.” It takes him a few seconds to fully recalibrate. “Is there a reason for the sporadic changes in honorifics?”

She looks distraught for a brief moment, but then relaxes and explains. “I thought it would be less suspicious for my parents if I called you Akechi-kun. But out of their earshot, I still feel like Akechi-san is what best conveys the respect I feel for you.”

“If you’re still not satisfied, you can also try Akechi-sama,” he says with a smirk.

“No,” she replies, smiling.

They both chuckle at their own childish banter and quickly settle down. As they step out of the park and back into the street, a question rises to the foreground of Akechi’s mind. “You said you respect me?”

Ayano hums. “Well, like I said at the station, I don’t really know you that well, although I feel like I’ve made actual progress today. But even so, there are things I do respect about you.”

Akechi remains silent, waiting for her to elaborate. He doesn’t want to directly ask her to, for fear of appearing desperate and insecure. But he gets the feeling his silence isn’t helping his case when Ayano raises an eyebrow at his insistent staring.

“Well, see, there’s your dedication and hard work, that I found expressed in several aspects of your life. You maintain excellent grades, scoring first at the last test’s results schoolwide, all the while having to balance your education with work and the media. You also obviously take great care of your appearance: there’s never a crease or a blemish on your shirt, your hair is always so perfectly combed and styled, your skin is spotless…” she trails off and shakes her head. “And now I’m rambling.”

“Keep going, by all means. That doesn’t feel half bad.”

She fakes a scoff and rolls her eyes. “Keep your ego in check, Mr. Detective Prince.” Her expression turns serious again. “Another thing I also find admirable is your acting ability.”

“I think you’re mistaken. That’s your thing.”

“I’m serious.” She pauses, a last hint of hesitation in her eyes. “Between us, it’s no secret that you’re not exactly who you pretend to be. Yet, the way you act, the words you speak, it’s all so believable… I admire that.”

“If it’s so convincing, how come you don’t believe it yourself?”

“You know why,” she says. “You saw through me, didn’t you?”

She’s right, he knew it already. The answer doesn’t fully satisfy him, though. He wishes he had a better explanation. In truth, he might be a bit vexed that she was able to see beyond his façade. But on the other hand, he’s kind of glad there’s at least one girl who sticks around him even knowing he’s not the Prince he’s made out to be.

Then again, she doesn’t know how far from his true self his crafted persona is.

“To be honest with you,” he begins, “I also respect you. You’re different from the other—”

“No.” She cuts him with a weary smile. “Please don’t say that. Not until I become someone.”

“What do you mean?”

“Nothing. I’m just going through a phase… I guess.”

“I guess I won’t shower you in praise and compliments then.”

They reach the house and slip back in. Shoes go off; Akechi throws a look at his watch, reading 9:19. A voice in the back of his thoughts groans in annoyance, eager to call it a day and go to sleep, tired of having to pass the time with Ayano; but that voice is weak and faint and leaves no mark in his mind. He’s happy to be here rather than in Shido’s office or at a TV station.

Ayano climbs upstairs and he goes to follow her, stopping as he finally notices a photograph on the wall. It’s a family picture, showing the father and mother with a younger Ayano and what Akechi presumes is her older brother. Save for Ayano’s own neutral expression, they look like a happy family.

He frowns and ascends the stairs, following her into her bedroom. Ayano closes the door behind them and nearly throws herself on the bed. “So, uh, what do you want to do now?”

Akechi hums. “Well, I wanted to take a look at your bookshelf. Is that alright with you?”

“Sure? Go ahead.”

He crouches in front of the shelf and scans the rows of books with his eyes, recognizing a few names from school. Then he sees Shakespeare, Molière, Wilde, Ibsen, a few names he assumes to be Italian; two books titled _Antigone_ sit side by side on the shelf, one by Sophocles, the other by an unfamiliar name. Curious, he pulls that one out and considers it. At the other end of the room, Ayano makes a happy noise.

“You have two versions of _Antigone_.”

“I do! This one is a little twist on the original. It’s a mix of two epochs—Antiquity and the modern times. Perfect to introduce the myth to a contemporary audience, trading chitons and peploi for suits and dresses. I’d love to play it one day.”

Akechi smiles. “You really love theater, don’t you?”

“I started ranting again.” She frowns.

“I don’t mind it,” he says. “You seem to have a soft spot for _Antigone_ , this version even more so.”

“I do. I always found it interesting how Anouilh wrote Antigone’s character in this.”

“I think I’d like to read it.” It doesn’t seem that long, too.

“Really?” She beams, then seems to realize something and she giggles mischievously. “Ah, but there’s one issue… open it.”

So he opens the book on the first pages. “Oh. It’s in French.”

“I’m not confident we’ll find a Japanese translation for that work, but you could probably work with an English version, right? And I can assist you with my book in case there’s anything unclear.”

“We have a deal then. I’ll read it later.” He puts the book back in its spot on the shelf.

His eyes turn back to the shelf and trail down, past the plays and the books on theater—he notices Aristotle’s _Poetics_. The last row of books is filled with some names that are much more familiar to him: a couple of Freud’s works, a few of Adler’s, Jung’s _Two Essays_ to note a few; and then a Nietzsche, Kant, some Schopenhauer, even Hegel. Works he himself has, back at his apartment, but seeing them here is almost disorienting, in a way.

He repeatedly draws a circle in the air with his index, pointing at the books. “Have you actually read those, or are they just here as decoration?”

“I’ve read some, but not all of them. For example, I once got around to reading Jung, but I stopped around halfway through or something.”

“Why?”

She sighs. “I might have been in denial about some things.”

Akechi stands up and faces her; he notices his bag on the floor at the end of the bed. “Oh, by the way, I brought sweets especially for you.”

Ayano claps her hands and beams. “For me!” She laughs happily, radiating the same energy as a child receiving a Christmas present.

“They’re in my bag, feel free to dig in.”

She turns to lie on her belly with a dumb grin and opens his bag, taking the sweets out and zipping it back close. At that moment, a gentle meow is heard behind the door and Akechi moves to go open it. “I’ll get that.”

Soba slides his furry body in the opening offered by the detective, rubbing against his calf on his way, and stops to stand in the middle of the room, meowing again. Ayano slides to the side of the bed and beckons the cat, who jumps next to her and mewls.

“Hi, you.”

“He sure is a chatty lad,” Akechi remarks.

“Does it bother you?” she asks, a hint of worry in her eyes.

He makes a dismissive gesture with a hand. “It doesn’t.”

She pats the space left next to her on the bed, like she just did for Soba. When Akechi raises an eyebrow in question, she shrugs. “I was just suggesting for you to sit down and get comfortable, since you’re standing in the middle of my room… But you can have the desk chair too, if you’d rather not join me.”

He hesitates a little, then sits cross-legged next to her. Soba immediately turns his attention away from Ayano to demand being pet by him, earning a look of betrayal from his appointed human but paying it no mind. Akechi only reluctantly strokes the animal at first, unfamiliar with the protocol, but then finds himself growing strangely calm and comfortable as Soba starts purring loudly. Ayano observes him for a moment, silent, contemplative, her gaze oddly sharp as it flicks up, down, to the side and back again. Her attention unsettles him, but he says nothing and tries to ignore it.

She huffs and rolls to her side, supporting the weight of her head in a propped-up hand. “Can you tell me about something, Akechi-san?”

“Depends. What is it?”

“I’d like to know what the celebrity life is like for you.”

He thinks a little. “At times nauseating, at times infuriating… And constantly unfulfilling.”

Ayano processes his words, humming. “Well.” And she chuckles.

Once her merriment subsides, she raises an eyebrow expectantly, lying comfortably on her front and gently sweeping the air with her legs, like a reversed pendulum. Akechi allows himself to lean back against the wall. “What, did my answer not satisfy you?”

“A skillful summary, I’m sure of it. Only a bit too succinct for my tastes, I’m afraid.”

“Fine, then. I’ll indulge you some more.”

So he begins telling of his life, the parts of it he can tell Ayano, the parts of it that unfold under the limelight. He lets her steer the conversation with her occasional questions and entertains her with anecdotal accounts of his stardom. Her eyes are glazed over and distant at first, as if she’s somewhere else entirely while he talks, but then they focus straight on him. Occasionally, they flick downwards for rarely more than a second, then trail back up slowly, difficultly. And while he talks, Akechi keeps one part of his mind running analyses, as he always does; so it’s easy for him to notice how she’s straining to maintain direct eye contact. Forcing herself, failing at times; but why? What is she trying to prove? to him? to herself? And what is that he perceives, a faint hint of something merciless, dormant in the black of her pupils?

It’s making something inside of him shudder in disgust.

The part of him that was content to spend his time with Ayano recants. Akechi throws another discreet glance at his watch: 9:42. Maybe he can plead for an early night. Next to him, a blissfully unaware Ayano pops a double chocolate Pocky stick in her mouth. The bright blue packet is offensively blinding to his eyes. Soba climbs down from the bed and stops in the center of the room again, sitting as if suddenly reflecting on the futility of life.

The biscuit stick crunches under Ayano’s white teeth. “Would you like to call it a day?” she asks, patient.

In truth, Akechi’s nowhere near tired, but he wouldn’t mind some time alone after all that interaction. There remains one problem, however. “Are we going to sleep…” _Together?_

He prays, and he prays hard. _Please say no_ , he thinks, _somehow._ His nights are restless enough when he’s alone in his apartment, lulled to insomnia by the sounds of the city and voices whose provenance he’s not sure of. So here, cradled by an unfamiliar scenery, he’s not sure how he can sleep any better. Worse, perhaps. The last thing he’d want is for Ayano—or anyone, really—to witness him waking up in cold sweat from nightmares he thought long gone.

“Would you like to have my brother’s bedroom?”

 _Yes; yes, please._ A little relief washes over him, but he shows none of it. “I’d prefer,” he says as modestly as he can.

“I’ll go ask my parents, be right back.”

“What are you going to tell them?” he asks, almost without thinking. He cringes internally—he’s showing too much agitation, too much worry; more than nothing is too much.

“How about…” She taps her lips in thought. “I’ll say you’re still too shy to share a bed with me.”

Too shy. He doesn’t like the depiction, but he’ll roll with it. “Okay. Yeah, that works.” She slips out of the room, Soba in tow, and Akechi is left alone with his thoughts.

The undertone of her words spelled it: “I know you’re hiding something, but I’ll play along.” It gives him a bad feeling, one whose name he can’t quite put his finger on yet.

A minute later, he hears footsteps and the light creaking of wood. Ayano appears in the doorway, holding a bottle in one hand. “You’re set to go,” she says.

“Thanks.” Akechi gets up from the bed and grabs his bag before following her to her brother’s room. She opens the door. They walk in.

Akechi runs his eyes around the room. For one thing, it’s larger than Ayano’s. A few posters on a wall and a fitted wardrobe; the bed, well-made and fit for two; opposite of it, a TV and a few consoles; not too far, a shelf filled with a few books and some games; in one corner, a desk with only a computer on it; and all around the room, three guitars on their stands. One acoustic, one electric, one bass.

“Your brother’s a musician?”

“More or less.” Ayano’s response comes delayed; she stares at the posters like she’s seeing through them. She looks overwhelmed. “Yes. Yes, he is.”

She kneels in front of the electric guitar, runs a digit on the strings, and doesn’t move for half a minute. Then she jerks up as if she just burnt her hand, faces Akechi, and throws him the bottle.

“For you.” She casually brushes fingers through her hair, seemingly in thought. “You can take a shower if you’d like too. And if you need anything, don’t hesitate to come ask. I’ll be sleeping late today, so…” The last part is spoken softly, almost too low for him to hear.

“Thank you.”

“Yeah. Well, good night.”

She disappears. He’s left standing in the middle of a bedroom with far too much character for his tastes and habits, overwhelmed as she was just before him. He starts by dropping his bag next to the bed and fishing out a towel, bathroom products and a comfortable outfit for the night. Carrying everything in his arms, he walks to the bathroom and locks the door.

Akechi turns the water on to let it heat up, then makes quick work of undressing and slips into the shower. He considers the knob and wonders if he can allow himself to turn the temperature up a little more. Just a bit more.

Scalding. Just the way he likes it.

As he goes on about the trivial task of washing his body, he lets his thoughts run back to minor worries. The echo of an old thought comes to his mind in particular.

_“I know you’re hiding something, but I’ll play along.”_

But how long will she?

He thought her reliable, pliable enough when he met her, when she went along with his plan just because she didn’t have the will or reason to decide not to. A blank, empty canvas, he thought he could paint her in his colors. Turn her into anything he wanted. Funnily enough, he thought her nondescript character was nauseating when he met her. He’d have given nearly anything for her to grow some sort of personality, to stop being so boring. And now he wished he could take it back. Now she was suddenly springing to life before him. Like a porcelain doll given a soul by an old witch, like a marble sculpture animated by the will of the gods. His Galatea turned sentient and terribly, terribly cognizant.

_“You hoped you could control me.”_

Akechi steps out of the shower, hair sticking to his face and his neck, his entire body dripping wet, and he thinks.

_Fuck._


	12. reboot (The Hanged Man)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It’s the second and last day of Akechi’s free trial of family life. Ayano tries to make it worthwhile.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had a lot of fun writing the banter and the flirting in this chapter, and this sleepover arc in general.  
>  I actually bought a lockpicking set specifically to experience lockpicking myself. (though the training padlock kind of broke down in my hands first thing, so I had to make do with a tiny padlock I used in high school a couple years ago)  
>  The _click_ really is satisfying, I can tell you that much.

The next day, Ayano wakes up with what she would call a sort of spiritual hangover.

Still half asleep, she feels around the nightstand to grab her phone and check the time. Something like half past ten—she doesn’t register all the numbers. A few minutes pass; she finds the strength to sit up at the edge of her bed, bare feet on the cool flooring. Her brain is still running the initial morning processes and it stops haphazardly on one thought.

In the room next to hers, in the bed of her brother, Akechi sleeps. Or slept. Ayano can’t seem to hear any movement, but honestly she doubts he’s still asleep past ten in the morning. With a sigh, she stands up from her bed and raises the blinds, shielding her eyes from the light. Walks back to the bed; grabs the brush sitting on the nightstand. She quickly brushes her hair and smoothes out the massively oversized gray shirt that doubles as her nightgown. Sits on her desk chair, hands docile in her lap, thoughts wild in her head.

She broke down in front of him. Well, not quite in front, as she made the minimal effort of facing away, but all the same to her nonetheless. She might as well have given him a knife and a map to her carotid artery.

Her feelings are conflicted. She wants to get closer to him, peel off the mask, slow, steady; her first true friend, someone who can understand her. But then she remembers what he’s shown her so far, and she grows tense, wary. A fight-or-flight response. He’s bad, he’s wrong; a lying, scheming bastard, and she needs to get away—now.

Her hands clench tight on the armrests. What is that emotion? She takes a long breath, holds onto it, tries to find a name for it. Something between fear and anger. A cornered doe facing the wolf, facing death with its last strength devoted to a futile, fleeting rebellion. The flames burning bright as it consumes, wood crumbling and falling into ash at last; embers blazing one last time before they go out. She shivers.

It feels oddly nice being angry.

Backtrack. The evening before, Ayano sat in bed, meditative. Thinking about learning. To learn, you must first get rid of erroneous preconceptions. To create, you must first destroy. So she destroyed in her head; she slowly, patiently deconstructed her life, piece by piece, like a thousand-piece puzzle that somehow came out wrong and doesn’t quite fit in its frame. The fake words, the fake bonds; the days spent telling and living a lie. Ayano takes them all and crushes them in her mind fist. Mistakes happen: she made one, time to correct it, with no shame or regret.

She gets up and walks to the door.

In the room next to hers, in the bed of her brother, another thousand-piece puzzle. She hoped to learn from it by dissecting it. The both of them are not so different from each other, after all—actors who fell victim to their hubris. No more now. Not for her, at the very least.

Ayano breathes out, hand on the door knob, and opens. The moment she steps out of her room, the door next to hers opens as well and Akechi steps out, wearing a white t-shirt and gray sweatpants. They face each other almost awkwardly for a few seconds before greetings are exchanged.

“Good morning, Ayano-san.”

“Hey. How’d you sleep?”

“I slept well, thank you. You?”

She doesn’t reply, instead frowning at the dark circles under his eyes. He must have forgotten to apply concealer, she grimly muses to herself. “You’re lying, aren’t you?”

He blinks stupidly before his lips twist into a soft smile. “Don’t worry about it, really. I… always sleep well.”

Knowing this is customary for him doesn’t make it any better and she sighs, but leaves it be. No amount of frowning or complaining is going to make it right, after all.

“I was waiting for you to get out of your room,” he admits sheepishly, “before I’d leave mine.”

He shifts on his feet. Ayano concedes he can be cute when he tries.

Ayano lays a hand on her heart and raises the other, two fingers up, in a dramatic pose. “Lost souls, fear not, for the shepherd hath arrived.”

He chuckles, though she can tell it’s not genuine, and follows her downstairs. An inviting smell wafts from the kitchen, instantly identified: waffles. They enter the kitchen and find Ayano’s father working the waffle iron, clad in his apron, which she knows is mostly for show rather than function. The table is set and there are already waffles waiting on a plate at the middle. She mentally commends her father’s great timing.

“Greetings, youngsters.”

In the couch, a dark form emerges, throwing a look over her shoulder. “Hello, you two,” Ayano’s mother says. She holds a book in her hand and glasses rest on the bridge of her nose.

“Greetings, esteemed mom and dad.” She greets them enthusiastically, if not a bit theatrically, and plops down on her chair at the table. Akechi remains standing, silently—shyly?—greeting her parents.

“Esteemed?” her father notes. “You in a good mood today?”

“Suppose I am,” Ayano replies and grabs a waffle. She spares Akechi a rather unimpressed look as he doesn’t move, but he does sit down at last when her father nods at the chair next to her, and starts eating as well. She fakes a scoff. “Bet you’d have starved yourself to death if I didn’t leave my room.”

“Nonsense.” He smiles.

Ayano’s father scoops a ladle of batter and makes another magic rectangle. Akechi watches him, silently munching on his food, before he swallows and asks a question.

“Mr. Yabusaki, if I may ask, why did you come to Japan?”

The man leans back into the kitchen counter and hums. “Well… A long time ago, I met a witch—”

Ayano only refrains from banging her head on the table because she’d rather not dive face-first into her waffle; instead she groans and settles with a facepalm. “Dad, no.”

From the couch, her mother chuckles.

Akechi looks confusedly at her, then her father, then her again. “What? I’d like to hear the story.”

“See, Ayano? Now sit back and let the men do the talking.” He ignores the glare she gives him and continues. “Once upon a time, I met a witch in the forest.”

“Oh, yeah. Sure,” she mutters. “The dirty concrete forest of le 12ème arrondissement.”

“Ayano, you’re ruining the magic.”

“Look, dad,” she begins with a smile. “Akechi-kun is a practical guy. I’m sure he can do without your antics, so let me explain instead?” She turns to Akechi and shows her ring finger. “He means this. That’s why he came here.”

“Your wife, huh?” He smiles. “How long have you been married?”

“Ah…” Adam turns towards the couch, thinking. “If I get it wrong, I’m as good as dead.”

Her mother only laughs.

“Twenty… twenty-four years.”

“Ding, ding, ding” she says. “You pass.”

He sighs in relief and chuckles.

Ayano turns to Akechi again; she thinks he has a faint forlorn look in his eyes, but tells herself she must be imagining things. After all, if he really felt miserable, he would surely be hiding it better than that, right?

“Twenty-four years,” Akechi repeats. “Wow.”

“I know, right?” her father replies. “I often wonder why she’s keeping me.”

“Your salary, probably,” Ayano deadpans. Adam grips the fabric where his heart should be located and clenches his other fist.

Was he always so… extra? Yes, he was. Ayano remembers him acting like this when she was a kid; their exchanges were always intense and dramatic, and sometimes even her mother would join them, turning the house into a scene, everyday life into a play. It stopped. The change was gradual, its progress running a parallel line to the slowly escalating bullying, to the growing grudge she nurtured against her father. She didn’t respond to his antics with the same theatricality, her sentences grew shorter, and eventually the scene turned back into a house.

Even after she transferred schools and the bullying stopped, she never returned to her old ways. The new school became her stage and she focused only on her performance. Appearance, grades—everything had to be polished, everything had to meet the expectations of others. Ayano bitterly remembers a few times she fainted in PE because she had barely eaten anything those days, eager as she was to lose some of her weight. At least it taught her exercising on an empty stomach isn’t the way to go, she muses to herself.

“What about you, Mrs. Yabusaki?” Akechi’s voice pulls her from her thoughts. “You two met in France, right? Why did you go there?”

Her mother sits up in the couch and turns to them, leaning on the backrest. She pulls her glasses up and rests them on the top of her head. “Well, I felt like moving away during my studies. Broaden my horizons, something like that, you know? I picked Paris because I thought it was cool. And, I guess, because a friend told me the French were more… outgoing, outspoken?” She chuckles. “It was during my rebel years, I suppose. I was a bit tired of how reserved we Japanese are. Wanted some change.”

Ayano smiles. Her mother was a bit of a case, too. In the end, it was pointless to run away from it; with parents like hers, eccentricity must run through her veins.

“But I was a bit disillusioned when I actually started living in Paris. I probably should have picked another city. Maybe Nantes?” Her mother throws a look at her husband. Nantes was where he originally hailed from. “But well, despite all of that, I suppose there was at least some good in living in Paris.”

“She means me,” Adam says.

“Of course not. I was talking about all the fancy restaurants.”

“Damn.” Ayano’s father unplugs the waffle iron in fake hurt. “Well, since everyone’s teamed up on me today, no more waffles.”

Ayano laughs and Akechi joins in. A distant part of her mind thinks he’s probably faking it, but she presently doesn’t care enough to stop and analyze him. When they both settle back down, Ayano stands up, muttering a quick “thanks for the meal,” and leaves the room. She can vaguely make out Akechi asking her father if he can help with the dishes, only to be turned down again. Hurried steps sounds behind her, catching up to her as she climbs the stairs.

“Wait for me,” he says, a playful lilt in his voice. “Don’t leave me alone.”

She turns to him with a smirk as she opens her door. “What now, are you going to follow me into the shower?” They walk in.

“Of course not. Don’t be silly.”

Ayano walks to her closet to retrieve some clothes, grabs her phone, and prepares to leave. “Well then, I suppose you’ll be staying alone for now then. I’ll be back quickly. In the meantime, feel free to snoop around my room if you’d like.”

“What? No.” He looks at her like she’s lost her mind. Maybe she has.

She only cackles in response and nearly runs down the stairs, slipping inside the bathroom. As much as she’d really like to know what Akechi’s going to do in her absence, it’s not like she has installed any cameras, so she resigns herself to her ignorance. Setting her phone on the sink, she makes quick work of stripping down and turns the shower on. She plays with the water, testing the temperature with a foot, and grabs the shower head. As she washes, her thoughts drift off again.

Ayano is still not quite sure what her stance is regarding the Akechi issue. Yesterday, he told her he could try being more honest with her, and at the time she accepted it without questioning it; but what’s to say he didn’t lie to her by saying that? what’s to say he wasn’t trying to gain her trust by appearing willing and sincere, so she would smoothly swallow all his future lies? When she asked for it, she knew it was just wishful thinking. That hadn’t changed; she couldn’t believe him. But the way they chatted carefreely on their way from the station, and their playful banter during the evening? She wants to believe it was genuine, the way he seemed to open up. Is she still being too naïve?

Probably.

Ayano turns the water off with a sigh and wraps herself in her towel. Thoroughly wipes the water off of herself and does her best to dry her hair. When she’s done, she places the towel back in its designated spot and leaves the shower to get dressed. A few minutes later, she knocks once on her bedroom door and pushes it open, finding Akechi leaning on the wall near her bookshelf. He looks up from the book in his hands.

“You knocked?” he asks, confused. “This is your room.”

Ayano grabs her brush. “Well, you’re right, I didn’t need to. I’m sure you heard me coming anyways.”

A couple of seconds pass. “Are you seriously still thinking I was going to rummage through your belongings?”

“You could have.”

“And you knock on your own door before coming in to give me the time to hide whatever deed I was hypothetically doing?” He stares at her incredulously. “Shouldn’t you have sneaked up and listened in instead of blatantly stomping up the stairs and _knocking_?”

She shrugs. “Meh.”

Akechi chuckles. “You shouldn’t encourage such criminal behavior, miss.” He closes the book and slides it back into its shelf, leaving his spot against the wall. “But I suppose your attitude just serves to prove you are an upstanding citizen yourself and definitely have nothing to hide.”

“Yes, sir, nothing at all.”

“Not even a secret boyfriend?”

“No, sir, I am perfectly single.”

“That’s wonderful news, miss. Surely then, you wouldn’t mind it if I invited you out to dinner sometime, would you?”

The bastard winks.

Ayano brings a hand to her face, trying to hide the stupid smile on her lips and what she assumes is a blush, if the heat creeping up her cheeks is any indication. “Damn it,” she mutters.

Akechi looks surprised at her reaction for a second, before he breaks into a huge shit-eating grin, obviously very satisfied of himself. “I win.”

“Shut up.”

“I made you blush.”

“Screw you.”

“Dinner first, dinner.”

“Eat shit and die.” The hand on her face gives him the finger.

He chuckles again and steps through the door. “I’m going to take my turn in the shower. I’ll be quick, but my bag is in your brother’s room if you feel like digging dirt on the Detective Prince.”

“Ooh, good idea. Hey, how much money do you think I can make by selling some of your underwear? Oh, but used underwear would definitely sell for a higher price.”

“This is disgusting,” he says with a bright smile.

Ayano only laughs in reply. Akechi disappears, climbing down the stairs after he’s retrieved his clothes and bathroom products.

What to do while he’s gone?

Ayano takes a short while to think and grins. She turns to her desk and goes through the drawers, pulling out a key, a padlock and some bobby pins. She fixes the latter to her hair before switching to her brother’s room and sets about searching it for anything with a lock. Minutes pass, but she doesn’t find anything of use. She’s in the middle of rummaging through a messy desk drawer when the door opens and someone steps into the room.

It’s Akechi, freshly showered and back in his prim and proper clothes. She stands up and faces him.

He rubs the back of his damp head. “I’ll admit I thought you might be looking through my things when I heard you in here.”

“Should I assume that means the great Detective Prince has things to hide from the public? Adult magazines hidden under a pile of clothes? A laptop full of “sensitive material”? No, better yet, risqué photos on his phone?”

“Oh yes, all of it and more.” He rolls his eyes and puts his things back into his bag. “So what were you looking for?”

Ayano smirks. “Equipment.”

She beckons him to follow her and they return to her room, where she grabs the key she retrieved earlier, inserts it into her door’s lock, and twists. She bends down and slides the key under the door, turning to Akechi with a mischievous look on her face.

“Ayano-san, what are you…” he trails off, worry evident on his face.

She grins, pulls the bobby pins out of her hair and presents them to him.

“Oh, you just want me to teach you how to lockpick. What a relief.”

“What did you think?”

He smiles. “Nothing in particular.”

He takes two pins from her and walks towards the door before crouching, lock at eye level. Ayano pockets the extra pins and imitates him, observing him in silence.

“Alright, let’s begin.” Akechi sticks a first hairpin into the keyhole and bends it downwards. “First off, if you’re going to be using hairpins, you need to learn how to shape them into tools.” He pulls the pin out and shows it to her. “This is what you’ll use to apply tension to the mechanism as you work and turn the barrel instead of a key. Now for the other one…” He sets down the bent pin and takes the second one, biting one of its ends off and throwing the little rubber ball in the bin a few feet away.

“Wow.”

Akechi hums questioningly.

“That was kind of hot, what you did with your teeth.”

He looks at her for a few seconds and chooses to ignore the remark, sticking the second bobby pin into the keyhole. “Insert the second pin like this and then bend it to the side. There, now you have your pick.”

He goes on to explain how the most common locks are built, how keys work, and how to lockpick a basic lock; gives her a word of warning to make sure she doesn’t rush or force the lock, because she could render the lock unusable; hands her the bobby pins and tells her to try getting a feel of the mechanism.

Ayano is fairly sure Akechi doesn’t need to supervise her anymore while she works, yet he remains in the same position and observes. And she’s pretty sure he’s not staring at the lock, but right at her.

She goes at it for one, maybe two minutes, probing around the barrel with her makeshift lockpick, patiently teasing the little pins inside. She has pretty much no idea what she’s doing in there, despite knowing the theory, but none of it seems to matter when the lock turns and open at last. She turns gaping at him, eliciting a chuckle from him.

“Congratulations, you have succeeded in picking the lock. That means I can now arrest you on grounds of illegal activity.”

“You mean reward me. Had I not picked this lock, you would have remained stuck here with me and we would have starved to death.”

“Of course not. For one thing, I could have picked the lock myself if it came to that. Not to mention—” he points a thumb at the window; “—there’s always an emergency exit. Although at this floor it might be dangerous.”

“Not to worry: I’m sure this gentleman would be glad to jump first and lie down to break my fall.”

“You’re heartless.”

They stand up and Ayano retrieves the key on the other side of the door, throwing it back into the drawer she found it in before sitting down at the desk. She slips her slender fingers into a pack of Pocky sticks at her side, drawing out a biscuit and holding it between her teeth. Both hands free, she grabs the padlock and gets to work, idly flicking the Pocky up and down. A minute later, the padlock clicks open.

Ayano retrieves the Pocky stick from her mouth. “God, that click is so satisfying.”

“I better not find you fiddling with any locks outside of this house, young lady. Otherwise, I’ll _have_ to arrest you.”

“You kinky man.”

“I’m seeing a pattern in your retorts today.”

“You’re imagining things.” She leans back into her desk chair. “By the way, how long are you going to stay?”

He flinches. “I… Ah… When would it be appropriate for me to leave?”

She blinks at him, confused, wording her reply. “I’m not giving you the boot. You can stay however long you like.” She stuffs two biscuits in her mouth. “Or leave as early as you want. I won’t mind either way.”

“What about your parents? Your mother only said I could stay the night… And it’s already pretty late, so maybe—”

“Ah yes, my parents. Please, the door’s unlocked, go ask my cat while you’re at it.”

He smiles.

“I tell you no one here has a problem with you staying, so take it easy. You’ve seen how laidback we are in this household too, so you really don’t have to worry so much.”

“Okay. Thank you.” He sits on her bed and seems to think. “I was a bit surprised at how… relaxed your parents are, honestly.”

“Serving wine to two minors?” She smirks.

“Ah yes, that definitely surprised me a little.”

They chuckle.

“But beyond that,” Akechi begins, “I find it… nothing short of astonishing how happy your parents seem to be together. And after being married for twenty-four years, too.”

Ayano leaves the last few Pocky to grab a matcha-flavored Kit Kat. She hums and opens it. “It puzzles me as much as it does you. I guess they’re just that one-in-ten couple that makes marriage work somehow.”

She bites into the Kit Kat—yes, the full thing; Ayano does not separate the fingers. Akechi makes a face as he witnesses the barbaric act, but says nothing of it.

“One in ten?” he repeats. “You’re not very optimistic, are you?”

“Optimism is just another word for naïveté.” Ayano muses in a wise fashion. “Well, that’s how my father sees things. As for me, I have only experienced seventeen years of life, so I derive all my fancy philosophizing from my parents’ accounts of diverse matters through the years.”

“With all the weight of my eighteen years of existence, I wholly agree with the sentiment.” Akechi grins.

“What a terrific team of precocious philosophers we make.”

A short silence; his smile fades. “Well, I’d like to believe I’ve seen enough of life that my judgement has more value than yours.”

Ayano isn’t sure what she’s supposed to say, so she lets him continue.

“Over the course of my… shall we say early adolescence, I was taken in by a few foster families.” He pauses, like he’s contemplating whether or not he should finish his thought. He does anyway. “I’ve witnessed a couple of unhappy marriages, so to speak.”

She takes a few seconds to consider the implications of those words. Arguments late into the night; arguments breeding frustration and resentment; frustration and resentment that called for an outlet; the outlet…

Akechi looks like he could really use a change of topic. “So, since you’re staying, is there anything you’d like to do?” she asks.

“I don’t know. What about you?” The speed at which he replies, lunging at the line she threw him, pretty much confirms her previous assumption. That wasn’t a topic he’d want to discuss with her anytime soon. That’s okay, she thinks; it’s none of her business. After all, she’s nothing to him.

“I’m down for pretty much anything. We can just keep lounging about and talking philosophy, or we can go out, or we can play video games… I might have some playing cards somewhere around here, too.” She grins. “French 52-card deck, obviously.”

But then she thinks it might be a bit boring with only two players. Not to mention, she doesn’t know a whole lot of card games other than war, tycoon and sevens. She likes to believe she’s especially not bad at sevens. Akechi would probably wreck her anyways.

“Ah, do you perhaps have a chess set at home?”

She thinks. “Not that I recall, sorry. We might have checkers, but not chess.”

Akechi considers the idea. “Checkers, huh. I haven’t played before, but I’m sure I’ll pick it up quickly. Would you care for a few games with me?”

“Oh yeah, sure. Let’s go downstairs.”

_I’m so gonna lose._

Ayano’s father gets the board and pieces out of a closet and brings it to them as they take seats face to face at the dining table. Ayano gets to work immediately, setting all pieces down on the dark squares while Akechi watches her.

“So, since we’re on a ten-by-ten board, we’re playing by the international rules. It’s more fun that way.”

“Why?”

“Two words, flying kings. It gets pretty crazy.”

Of course, it won’t be as fun when Akechi zooms across the board, taking four of her pieces in one move, but oh well. She at least intends to put up a fight before she goes down.

Ayano briefly explains the objective and rules of the game, which Akechi gets in only three sentences because at its core, the game is simple; simpler than chess, she thinks. But of course, rules are one thing. It really comes down to the ability to analyze present circumstances, identify the opponent’s available moves, calculate their outcomes, and design an adequate response to them. The further ahead you can see, the better. And Ayano suspects Akechi is particularly good at doing that.

“Would you like to play black or white?” she asks him. She set the white pieces in front of him by default, having a hunch as to what his preference would be.

“Do you have a preference yourself, Ayano-san?”

“I don’t.”

“Well then, I’d like to play white.”

Ayano would like to believe this is telling of his attitude and tactics. “The first to make a move wins;” confident, relentless, but cool-headed. Constantly on the offensive. This is what she expects of him.

Checkers isn’t a game you win by playing defensively anyways. He probably understands that.

The first game starts. For some reason, her father has decided to stick around and watch their confrontation, but they’re both too focused on the board to mind him. Ayano commits to the game like she’s never done before: she takes the time to extensively examine the situation every turn, mindful of every opening she might leave for him to take advantage of, while keeping an eye out for any opportunity she might herself have to set him up and deal a consequent blow to his forces. She doesn’t find any; Akechi doesn’t leave many openings for her to exploit either. The game goes on, tense and stupidly nerve-wracking, as if the stakes were actually higher than they are. Maybe they actually are. Ayano thinks she could probably derive a couple fancy metaphors if she took the time to think about it. She doesn’t.

Next to them, her father remains silent. Maybe he’s doing the metaphor-digging in her stead. She wonders what he thinks. She wonders is he sees how messed-up all of this is.

Finally, the first game ends on Ayano’s win, and when she only wins by the skin of her teeth, she knows this first victory is also her last against Akechi.

She sighs in relief, gladder than she should be that the game has ended.

“Well-played,” he concedes with a smile that doesn’t look too fake. “You beat me.”

“I did.” She rubs her face to try and chase the settling fatigue away. Unsuccessfully. “Go again?”

“Gladly. I intend to win this time.”

Ayano finds the wording extremely questionable.

God, if it turns out he actually went easy on her and gave her the win, she’s going to be so genuinely pissed. The humiliation of getting curbstomped is nothing compared to a bogus victory, she thinks. And it doesn’t help that it seems like a thing he’d do.

She takes a deep breath. Warily crosses out the first game as her victory; knows perfectly well she won’t get another one.

“Very well,” she says and forces a smile. “Let’s go for two more games.”

She won’t go for any more than that because for one thing, losing gets old pretty quickly; for another, winning effortlessly also gets old quite fast. Ayano thinks Akechi will find her terribly boring if he keeps winning, and she does not want to bore him, because something tells her the second she does, she’ll be thrown away.

She tries not to think about the idea too much, puts on a smile and resumes playing.

Those two more games go about as well as she predicted: Akechi wipes the board with her. She exhausted all her ability to focus on the first one, which left her mentally fatigued, and now she keeps leaving easy openings and leading him straight into her home row. At that point, she doesn’t even care if he’s disappointed by the easy wins. She’s just tired and wants to stop thinking.

Ayano is by no means bad at analyzing a given situation. She’d like to think she’s rather perceptive and pretty observant. It’s a quality she’s spent a lot of time refining, because she knew it would come in handy very often: read others, read the room, read between the lines, it all helped her to mold herself into whatever was wanted of her. And that ability to hear the unsaid and perceive the unseen has proved vital in her relationship with Akechi.

Whatever kind of relationship it is.

But foresight, that she lacks. No matter how well she analyzes the board, planning for several moves ahead is something she cannot do. She would make for a poor strategist, she tells herself. Akechi, on the other hand, seems to excel at those kinds of calculations, just as she expected. And that doesn’t bode well for her.

“Thank you for the games,” Akechi says. “I enjoyed playing with you a lot.”

Ayano would bet he’s lying right now. “Of course you did,” she groans. “Who wouldn’t enjoy getting three wins in three games?”

He looks confused at her. “But I only won twice. You won the first game, remember?”

“Huh. I guess I did.” No, she didn’t.

She really has become an expert at self-persuasion after all this time spent lying to herself, hasn’t she?

The rest of the day goes by achingly slow. Her mother makes lunch today, giving Akechi a taste of her pretty damn good cooking, which is a privilege he probably doesn’t value as much as he should. They scuttle upstairs when the meal is finished, with Ayano desperately trying to think of an activity they could both take part in, but it proves a bit difficult when their only common interests so far are philosophy and lying to one another. Not exactly material for the nicest stay-at-home date.

Akechi kindly suggests video games, saying something about trying new things and broadening his horizons, so they go to her brother’s room. She finds it surprising coming from him, but Ayano’s happy to settle for that choice, and it turns out it makes for fairer competition with him than strategic board games. She’s lost her muscle memory from when she used to play those games with Hiroshi, but she still has more recollection of the games than Akechi, who has never heard of any of those titles before and barely even knows how to use the controller. She finds it amusing at first, before she remembers this is just another testimony to his atypical and frankly shitty childhood. At least, she tells herself, he gets to give it a try with her; they say it’s better late than never. And it’s surprising to her, but he seems to be enjoying himself.

Four in the afternoon; Akechi decides it’s a good time for him to return home, so they leave the house and slowly make their way to the train station, in the middle of a dumb conversation turned philosophical. It ends when they enter the station and reach the gates.

“Thank you for letting me come over, Ayano-san. I really enjoyed my stay with you.”

Stars above, either he leveled up his acting skills in the course of the weekend, or he actually means it. She hopes it’s the latter.

“I’m glad to hear that. We were happy to have you as well, Akechi-san.” He might inadvertently force her body into fight-or-flight sometimes, but she thinks she still likes hanging out with him. “Enjoy the rest of your summer break, yeah?”

Akechi smiles. “Will do. You too, okay?” He readjusts the strap of his bag on his shoulder and steps away. “Well then… See you.”

“Yep.”

He presses his IC card against the reader and passes the gate, walking a few more feet before he turns around and calls out to Ayano, who’s begun to leave. She stops and faces him.

Akechi brings a finger to his lips. “I’ll keep your secret,” he shouts before leaving for good.

Ayano smiles and wonders if it matters anymore.


	13. inevitable beach episode (The Hanged Man)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fate (acting through one small girl named Kyoko) has decreed Ayano shall wear a bikini. Akechi bears witness to this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IT'S HERE.  
>  Longest chapter yet. This bad boi is almost 8k words. Lots of dialogue.  
>  We're entering a new, short arc, so prepare for a lot of Hanged Man pov.

The summer break ends.

Little Ayano doesn’t think much of it: she doesn’t lament having to go back to school after the long and admittedly relaxing break, but she’s not particularly ecstatic at the idea either. To her, it really is just switching from one routine to another. Out with consulting old pictures, recollecting faint memories, reading plays from her childhood, meditating on the characters she used to love, trying to find slivers of a lost personality in them. In with the lessons, the homework, the projects and the exams. Reconstruction can wait. You don’t need a personality to graduate from school anyways.

So Ayano shelves her identity crisis for the time being and dutifully dons her uniform, ready to return to the metaphorical still waters of her uneventful school life.

As it happens, Ayano forgot about her school’s trip to Los Angeles scheduled only a few days later. So much for getting back into the hardworking student mindset.

The air around her feels electric as she leisurely makes her way to her classroom, the students around her buzzing with excitement as they make plans. Ayano vaguely makes out talk of checking out the Walk of Fame or taking pictures in front of the Hollywood sign, boys speaking of hitting the beach to watch the girls, and girls thinking of the perfect swimsuit to entice the boys. The latter reminds her than she doesn’t have anything other than the school swimsuit and she makes a mental note of the need to pick something for herself before going home the next day. Tuning out the group of girls by the windows debating whether ruffles or stripes are superior—noting the strategic aspect of stripes, which emphasize curves, or so one classmate says—Ayano briefly wonders what would suit her best.

_“You’re very pretty. Navy blue looks good on you.”_

She decides to keep those words in mind for purely informational purposes.

Ayano docilely rests her chin in her joined hands as the bell rings the beginning of classes and the teacher begins taking attendance. The bells ring the midday break and she opens the drama club’s group chat, finding a message from the club president calling for a meeting. Taking a bite out of her homemade lunch box, she replies to confirm her presence at the meeting and informs her boss that she will be late for her shift.

Classes end and duty calls at last. Ayano happily walks to her club’s room and slips in, finding most other members already sat at the table. She takes her seat next to Yoshino and gives her a smile.

“Hello there, Yabusaki-san. How did the break go for you?”

Ayano doesn’t think of the studying and the cooking, and the evenings spent in introspection. She thinks of Akechi’s sleepover at her place—the wine, the lockpicking lesson, the games, the banter. She thinks of that call two weeks later that went on for two consecutive hours—peaceful silence and comfortable chatter in turn, while Akechi read and deciphered _Antigone_ in English and offered his commentary on the play.

Ayano hums. “It went pretty good, I’d say. You?”

“Good too. It felt nice having some free time.” Yoshino pauses and barely narrows her eyes; the corners of her mouth turn upwards ever-so-slightly. “You’re not telling me everything.”

“No, I’m not.”

The queen looks amused, but says nothing more about it. Instead the two girls briefly chat about the upcoming trip to Los Angeles before the last member enters the room and takes a seat at the table, allowing the meeting to finally begin. The president introduces the topic by reminding the club that the school’s cultural festival is in two months and a half, and that they have to have prepared a performance by then, and that they obviously need to start by picking a play for that. Of course, as one might expect, it takes about two seconds tops for one of the members to suggest Shakespeare.

Ayano seconds the suggestion, already being familiar with a good few of his plays. She’ll just have to buy a Japanese version of the text they choose.

“We could play _Romeo and Juliet,_ maybe?” one of the girls suggests.

Ayano groans. “That’s the first one you think of?”

The others turn to her, surprised at her sudden contribution. In retrospect, she thinks to herself the transition from “speaks only when strictly necessary” to “bluntly blurts out anything” might have been a little brutal.

“Is that bad?”

“The only fun part is when they die at the end.”

The girl looks troubled and whispers, “That’s the fun part for you?” but Ayano isn’t left any time to reply as Yoshino intervenes.

“Maybe we should pick something lighter and more fun for the public,” she gently offers. “One of his comedies.”

There is a short silence as the other members seem to rack their brains, before one speaks up.

“Like _A Midsummer Night’s Dream_?”

“How many characters are there?” the president asks.

Another silence. “A good twenty at least,” Ayano says.

“Are we going to manage?” Yoshino asks.

“Yabusaki, you seem to have some knowledge of the play,” the president continues. “Can you estimate how many of these characters can be played by volunteers outside of the club?”

“I didn’t count them in those twenty.”

They all exchange looks. The club had eleven members only. The more characters were left to volunteers, the less reliable their cast would be; or that must be what some of the members are thinking, at least, but Ayano has another opinion. Truth be told, they aren’t so much more skilled than the other students; after all, they were only untrained members of a drama club, volunteers themselves to devote their free time to acting without necessarily being good at it. She thinks that but doesn’t say it, not wanting the others to look at her like she just sprouted a third leg.

“I think we can manage,” the president says, though Ayano doesn’t feel much conviction in the words. “At least we’ll keep the most significant roles for our members.”

Well, that, or they could go for another play entirely. She seems to recall there are less characters in _Twelfth Night._ But she thinks _A Midsummer Night’s Dream_ holds the advantage of being easier to stage.

A quarter of an hour later, Ayano leaves school to go to work at last. She offered to establish rankings of all characters’ “significance” in the play based on their lines and importance. Other members were given homework as well, such as making plans for the staging or coming up with costumes, but their tasks were less urgent than hers. She had to make that list as soon as possible so they could start recruiting volunteers for the roles they couldn’t fill themselves, so as to give them time to learn their lines and rehearse their roles. The deadline given to her by the president was September 18th.

Naturally, Ayano finishes her rankings the evening after. It’s such trivial work to her, she sets about it right as she gets home for the weekend and sends the list to the president via email without delay. All that’s left to think about for her now is the trip to Los Angeles.

Five days later, she finds herself in Honolulu.

Something about sudden complications led to a need to reroute, so they happened to join another school in their own trip to Hawaii. Ayano is slightly disappointed, even though this is still the United States; Los Angeles is just…

Well, it’s California. It’s the Golden State. That just gives it a strange kind of appeal that other states don’t really have.

But it’s not home anyways, so it breaks the monotony of her everyday life; and besides, there are many things to do and see in Hawaii, and a lot of food to try. And thanks to Kosei’s pretty damn good budget, the hotel they’re staying at is very nice. She gets along well enough with her roommates, too, although she wouldn’t call any of them a friend. And since she has been assigned to a hotel room with her right desk neighbor who has thus achieved recurring character status, said classmate will now be named.

So Kyoko, as is her name, is currently bugging Ayano for her to come at the beach with the other girls. She’s managed to avoid it so far, but it’s the second to last day of the trip and Kyoko is growing restless. The little girl violently shoves a bottle in Ayano’s hands.

“Take this! It’s a bottle of full protection sunscreen, and now you have no argument not to come!”

“I just don’t understand what’s the point,” Ayano groans. “I can go to the beach alone if I want to go, what makes you think I’d be any more inclined to go with anyone else?”

“Because it’s more fun with friends!”

“We’re not friends, though.”

It puts a very brief dent in Kyoko’s enthusiasm, but she keeps on running her mouth anyways. “Then it’s an opportunity to become friends! We can get to know each other, and the others too!”

Ayano rolls her eyes. “We hardly need to leave this room for that.”

“We do! It’s a surefire way to bond! Besides, you can’t go to Hawaii without going at least once to the beach. It’s illegal.”

“That’s right. It’s written in the Constitution, and the school even mentioned it in the first pages of the school’s trip guidebook. The offense is punishable by death, even.” She poses dramatically for emphasis.

Kyoko chuckles. “Then?”

“Guess I’ll die.” She shrugs.

“No way! Not before I make friends with you!”

Kyoko’s enthusiasm and joie de vivre are highly draining, and perhaps a little endearing, so Ayano gives up on fighting back and decides to throw on her bikini after all. After dealing with the little girl’s somewhat embarrassing praise of Ayano’s own body—“You look like a model! And you have all the right curves in the right places too! And your hair is so pretty! And your skin is so pale, do you use cream? And those navy ruffles suit you so well! It really is the perfect color for you!”—she lets herself get dragged to Waikiki Beach. As they arrive, they come in sight of a group of girls from Kosei, among whom stands the queen. Yoshino notices the two girls and meets them halfway.

Short introductions are exchanged between Yoshino and Kyoko, who looks at the former with blatant curiosity and a hint of respect.

“So you’re friends with Yabusaki-san? How did you do that?”

Yoshino smiles. “Are you not? I’d assumed as much when I saw you coming this way together.”

“No way,” Kyoko whines. “Yabusaki-san distinctly said we’re not friends earlier.”

“My, Yabusaki-san, I didn’t know you were so cold.” The queen fakes shock, but there’s mirth in her eyes.

“I wouldn’t say cold, more like blunt. And of course you didn’t know, we don’t really know each other after all.”

A short silence. “Hm, you’re right. Other than our shared interest for theater, we don’t really know much of one another, do we?”

“Then let’s get to know each other, all three of us? And we can all become friends at the same time.”

Yoshino chuckles. “Alright.” Kyoko beams at her reply.

So they set off, walking away from the other Kosei girls to explore the beach in full length as they chat about diverse things. The discussion makes Ayano realize she was mistaken about a couple of things.

Firstly, for all she would put Yoshino on a mental pedestal, viewing her as a queen of the school, Ayano was always under the impression that it was all she ever was. She never thought about it much, so it never crossed her mind that Yoshino could be defined by anything other than her excellent grades, her looks, her acting ability, her calm and mature demeanor, her popularity. After all this time pretending to be a pretty little soulless doll, acting to everyone’s liking though without a sense of self, Ayano figured it should be the same for all these other girls that appear perfect. In retrospect, it was a stupid assumption.

She finds Yoshino is far from soulless. Her calm and her maturity do seem genuine, but there is a strange hint of mischief laced in her eyes or her voice at times, and she slips witty jokes in-between well-worded opinions. Her interest for theater, like Ayano originally, is also genuine. As she explains to the inquisitive Kyoko, it stems from a peculiar interest in the psychology of fictional characters, in the way authors imitate life and tackle human interaction in their works. This is when to her surprise, Ayano learns Yoshino is also fond of writing.

“Why didn’t you join the literature club instead then?” Kyoko asks.

“I felt like acting—playing these characters, putting myself in their shoes—would teach me more than just reading and analyzing lines upon lines of material,” she explains. “I don’t know if I was right, but I’m glad I chose the drama club. I’ve had a lot of fun all these years and I’ve met interesting people. I’m going to miss it after we graduate.”

“Well, why not continue?” Ayano suggests. “You could go to a drama college.”

“I don’t know…” Yoshino sighs. “I’m not sure my parents would approve of it too much. I was planning on landing a normal, secure job in some office somewhere, to be honest.”

“What about you though, Ayano-san?” Kyoko asks.

She lets silence settle for a moment as she thinks about it. That question has been on her mind quite a lot these past few weeks. Things have changed. She realized she doesn’t want to study psychology all that much. And more than anything, she realized she’s not at all enthused by the idea of becoming a _shakaijin._

“I’m actually considering it,” she says softly. “Studying theater in college.”

Yoshino looks at her with wide eyes, and Ayano sees something that looks like awe in them.

“Whoa. You’re going to become an actress?” Kyoko says.

“I don’t know. Depends if I get good enough.”

“I’m sure you can become one if you want to,” Yoshino assures her. “In our little ragtag team of amateur actors, you’re the most convincing one. I believe in your potential.”

It makes something tingle in Ayano’s heart. It’s a good tingling, but there’s also a sort of bitterness and of pain. She guesses it’s because it took her so long to realize this is what she always wanted.

Secondly, Ayano becomes aware of a sad truth: she’s actually quite condescending. She’s not sure where that comes from, but she tends to assume everyone she meets is either bland and superficial or simple and idiotic before even talking once to the person. Kyoko was a victim of that treatment as well.

Her cheerful disposition and her energetic behavior made her look like some cute, stupid, naive girl in Ayano’s eyes; like a little puppy, pure and innocent and happy with all the littlest things in life. When Kyoko made talk of making friends with her, she thought the girl just wanted someone to listen to her yapping, maybe gossip or talk about the boys, or someone to help her with her homework and studying for exams. Ayano couldn’t imagine how she could want to be someone’s friend without knowing anything about one first. But now, she thinks she understands a little more why all this time, Kyoko tried her damn best to be nice to her.

Ayano, to Kyoko, must be what Yoshino has been to Ayano all this time. The mysteriously cool girl, clever, pretty, well-mannered and invested in her studies. Somehow, Kyoko must have seen her as one of the queens of the school—the quiet and discreet one, sitting in a dark corner of the ballroom while the rest of the court prances about under the gleaming chandeliers.

A buzzing against her waist pulls her out of her emotional seaside introspection. She pulls her cellphone out of the sarong tied around her waist and unlocks it.

_Akechi — If I manage to sneak out of the hotel incognito, do you think we could meet this afternoon?_

Ayano feels a rush of stress and butterflies in her stomach. She steps back from the other two, earning looks of confusion from them.

“Don’t mind me, keep going! I’m right behind you, I just… need to reply to a message.”

“Is it that private?” Yoshino asks with a smile.

“Kind of, yeah.”

A pause. “Ayano-san, you’re red,” Kyoko notes and breaks into a huge grin. “Oh! Is it a boy?”

“Come to think of it, I did get the impression she was hiding something,” Yoshino adds.

“Shut it, you two. Keep walking straight.”

_You were able to free yourself for the trip despite everything?_

_Akechi — Yes. I got quite lucky._

_That’s nice. I hope you’re enjoying yourself._

_I think it’s a nice change of pace and scenery from Tokyo_

_Akechi — I agree. It’s quite refreshing._

Ayano taps the side of her cellphone nervously. Does she accept his initial offer? Why is he even offering? Is he trying to be polite? Is he expecting her to read between the lines and decline, so he can stay alone and in peace? She thought they both made it clear enough that there was no need to uphold the pretense anymore, so why then would he be trying to be nice?

She’s opted to pretend not having registered the question when he actually chases her up.

_Akechi — You haven’t replied to my question. Would you like to hang out today?_

_What do I do?_

_What do_ you _want me to do?_

Ayano thinks a little about it and arrives at a decision: fuck what he wants, she’ll make her own choice. He’ll deal with it.

_I think I would._

_What do you have in mind?_

_Akechi — Can we discuss this over call? It’s more practical that way._

Ayano looks around. She doesn’t recognize anyone from Kosei other than Kyoko and Yoshino, but it’s hard to know without the uniforms. She spots an area without anyone that looks Japanese and guesses that’ll have to do.

“Um, girls, I need to make a quick call. So I’ll just stay behind and I’ll catch up to you soon.”

“Sure thing,” Yoshino says, a lilt in her voice.

Ayano withdraws and promptly calls Akechi. He answers immediately, of course.

 _“Hey,”_ he says.

“H—Hey.” She hopes he didn’t pick up on that stutter, because it was definitely not the call’s.

_“I was thinking you could pick any place you want, if you have any preference. But if I may request one thing, I would prefer if there weren’t any students. Or even as little people as possible… though I suppose it’s too much to ask for in a city like this.”_

Ayano giggles. “Well, I’ll try my best to think of something if you want, but maybe you should be the one to pick the place, Detective.”

There is a short silence. _“Well… In truth, I was thinking of going to the beach. I haven’t yet set foot on sand since we landed.”_ A pause then. _“From what I can hear, you’re at the beach right now, aren’t you?”_

“Yeah. Sorry about the noise. I tried finding a quieter place away from people, but well…” She trails off.

 _“It’s alright, the noise doesn’t bother me,”_ Akechi reassures her. _“Well, if you’re already at the beach now, maybe we should pick a different place, if you’d rather do something else—"_

“No, the beach is fine if you want. They’re just not the least crowded places here, so…” She hums, trailing off yet again as she gets lost in thought. “Do you know of a typically less crowded beach here in Honolulu? If it’s not too far away from the hotel, we could try going there. Maybe take the bus, if we must.”

Another silence on Akechi’s side of the call, but Ayano thinks she can hear typing and assumes he is looking it up. A few minutes later, he replies. _“Some seem to say Ala Moana Beach is usually a bit calmer, but it’s a twenty- or thirty-minute bus ride. Would you mind?”_

“Not if you don’t either.”

 _“Then let’s do that.”_ He sounds like he’s smiling—which she finds odd, because why would he need to smile when she doesn’t see him? _“Shall we meet up around sunset?”_

Ayano checks the time on her phone. “That’s in an hour and a half,” she notes and swallows nervously. It doesn’t leave her much time to prepare herself mentally, she thinks but doesn’t say.

_“Will that be a problem? Is it perhaps too late already? I thought I could give you time to finish whatever you’re doing now, but if it’s no good for you we can just cancel the plans.”_

“No, it’ll be fine. Should we take different buses and arrive at different times? You know, to decrease the chances of being seen together.”

He chuckles. _“Sure, we can do that. I’ll go first and tell you which bus I’m taking, then. But I’ll be wearing a disguise of sorts, and I’ll be careful not to be followed anyways, so you should be fine.”_

Ayano giggles. “Okay. Anything else I should know?”

_“I don’t think so. What about me, anything I should know?”_

“Nothing else to add, sir.”

_“Then I’ll see you at sunset.”_

“Yeah, see you.”

Hang up. Deep breath. Wonder what the hell to do.

Ayano runs off, phone still in her hand, to catch up with her friends; her feet sink into the fine sand as she weaves through the people on the beach, earning a few looks. She spots the two girls soon and meets up with them at last.

“How did it go?” Yoshino asks first.

“Uh… Good, I guess?” she replies. “I’ll have to go soon. Stuff to do.”

“More like someone to meet.” Kyoko wiggles her eyebrows. “Aren’t we allowed to know who it is?”

“Absolutely not.”

“Can we at least have a tiny hint?”

“No.”

Kyoko makes a dejected face, but drops the questioning.

“When do you have to go?” Yoshino says.

“I’ll be heading back in half an hour, I think.”

“Then let’s start tracing our steps back and get closer to the hotel,” she offers. “We wouldn’t want you to be late to your secret date.”

They leisurely walk back to the hotel, chatting about everything and nothing. Yoshino and Kyoko exchange knowing glances every now and then; Ayano tries to focus on their conversation, but her mind is elsewhere. She can’t help being nervous to hang out with Akechi, for so many different reasons. It’s already inherently confusing, as well as tiring when she tries to read between his lines; but now there is the added threat of being found out by other students. She thought he would want to avoid being seen together as well, and hoped they would stop going to public places after they agreed to a relationship, yet then he invited her to that restaurant in Chiyoda. And now, to a beach in Honolulu, with students from two of Tokyo’s high schools roaming the city. Does he perhaps not realize the risk? Of course he does. He’s clever and attentive to details. Ayano finds more likely that he simply doesn’t care what happens if they’re found out again.

After all, she’d be the only one affected if they recognized her.

They all reach the hotel and the girls part ways with Ayano, uttering words of encouragement and mindless congratulations. She briefly wonders how her new friends would react instead, if they knew who she was seeing. Maybe they’d turn against her. Maybe she’ll get to know that soon enough.

After some research using the hotel’s Wi-Fi and asking the locals for directions, Ayano finds her stop and climbs into the bus, a stirring in her insides. She scans the passengers around her and finds a few guys staring at her, but no Japanese students. She’s safe for now, she thinks. She gets off at her stop and tentatively throws herself on a path she thinks leads to the beach, keeping her eyes peeled for Akechi, though he did mention he was going to wear a disguise.

As she nears the beach parking lot, she spots a hooded figure sitting at a table, looking in her direction, and slows down. The figure stands up and walks towards her.

“Hello,” he says when he comes in range and pulls up his hood a little.

Ayano’s chest swells with an odd feeling as she recognizes Akechi. She tells herself it must be the stress of meeting him. “H—hey.”

“Shall we?”

They get to walking at a comfortable pace and come in sight of the shore soon, leaving the path to step on the warm sand. Neither of them talk for a while, and the silence that’s usually so relaxing, with no words to decipher and no mind games to play, weighs heavier on Ayano by the second. Akechi makes no comment on how fidgety she is getting; perhaps he doesn’t even notice. She feels heat well up in her and eyes his hoodie.

“Aren’t you too hot wearing that?” she blurts out.

He looks at her with a curious expression. “Not really. The sun is setting, so the temperature’s decreased.” There’s a pause before he smirks and she knows she’s going to want to hit him. “Wait, could it all be but a ploy to get me to undress? Goodness, Ayano-san.”

Giggles, yet again. _Screw you_ , she almost says, but realizes it would only fuel his fire. “Shut up.” The gears turn; she grapples for a comeback, finds a few ideas and settles on one. “Are you implying I’m a schemer, now? What’s this idiom about a pot and a kettle again?”

It takes him a second to understand the implication and when he does, something flashes across his face, too brief to leave any time for her to think anything of it. “Such baseless accusations! You wound me so.”

“Baseless? You’ve given me plenty of evidence to uncover your true nature, Mr. Detective.”

“How could I have, really, when I’m innocent through and through and utterly beyond reproach?”

“Oh, I could find a good few reproaches to make,” Ayano scoffs playfully. Inside, though, she has other ideas. _You tried to turn me into your puppet. Maybe you’re still trying._

“And what would those be?" He fakes indignation.

“Illegal practice of lockpicking in another’s propriety, to start with.”

“Hey, you did that too. Besides, you were the one to open the lock.”

“Yeah but it was my door.” She sticks her tongue out. “And it only starts there. What next? Oh, I know: bribery and corruption.”

“What?”

“You bought my parents off with food.”

Akechi raises both hands in surrender. “You’ve got me, I confess. Guilty as charged.”

She laughs and he joins her in a chuckle. It feels nice to give into the illusion of friendship with him sometimes.

The banter comes to an end, or maybe just a lull, and silence settles down again. Ayano turns her gaze to the setting sun dyeing the sky in burning hues. The light it casts on the waves is especially beautiful, she thinks. The sun looks strangely large as it kisses the horizon. An illusion, she distantly recalls; as the brain processes the sight of the sun—or the moon—near the horizon, it distorts the image. Even illusory, the sight is a little impressive.

“Have you been enjoying yourself in Honolulu so far, Ayano-san?”

She turns away from the sun to look back at Akechi. She’s not certain whether it’s the sun painting his face with its last rays or his smile, but his expression is surprisingly warm.

“Honestly, yes,” she says. “I didn’t know what to expect before and after news of our rerouting, but now I can say for sure it’s really nice being here.”

“I agree. I’m glad I was able to free myself from my work obligations to come here. I’ll probably pay for it when we go home and I find a pile of work waiting for me, but it’s a price I’ll gladly pay.”

“Gee, your superiors really don’t go easy on you?” Ayano whines. “Even though you’re also a student…”

“Well, you could say my work comes with a big responsibility. I knew what I was getting into, and I don’t regret it.”

Another break in their conversation; Ayano takes her eyes from figure to figure, scanning the beach. The diminishing luminosity turns people’s forms into dark silhouettes. It gives her an odd sense of anonymity, of false security.

“Ah, but I meant to tell you…”

Akechi pauses and wavers.

“Thanks for coming here with me today. I appreciate it. I haven’t… really had the opportunity to go to the beach like this before.”

Ayano considers him in silence, thinking of what to say. “I was honestly surprised you asked.”

“Why is that?”

“Well, if you wanted to hit the beach, you could have gone alone. I thought you might have preferred that. I didn’t expect you to… actively seek out my company, I guess?”

It takes him a little while to word his thought. “There was no one else I could have asked.”

Ayano lifts a brow. “Well, thank you. I’m glad to know you came to me because I was your only option.”

“No! I didn’t mean it like that.” Akechi raises his hands in apology. “What I meant to say is…” He brings a hand to his chin in thought. “You’re the only one I truly enjoy spending time with, just casually hanging out like this. I’d say your company is very relaxing.”

Is this another artifice, she wonders?

Oddly enough, it doesn’t really look like one. He looks a bit embarrassed at his own words, like he regrets saying them.

“Well,” Ayano starts with a giggle, “that’s quite a compliment. I’m glad you feel that way.”

“But… I do feel a little bad I’m using your time so selfishly. It did sound like I interrupted something earlier.”

“I mean, obviously if I’m here, it means I’m okay with it.” She shrugs. “I was just hanging out with… I guess I could call them friends, now?”

“Did you meet new people?” he says, his tone pleasant.

“No, not really. I just never went to the trouble of getting to know them. I feel kind of shitty about that, to be honest.”

Akechi stares confusedly at her, brows furrowed. “Why?”

“Well, before, I’d look at my classmates or my clubmates and tell myself they all looked superficial. Without knowing anything about them really. I just assumed things.”

“But if you thought these things, then they must have given you reason to, mustn’t they?”

He genuinely looks like he doesn’t understand what’s problematic about it, and thinking about it, Ayano might have not seen it either if she’d been told before realizing it on her own. In a way, Akechi’s mindset must be what hers was before. Following this line of thought, something clicks in her brain. If he does indeed think like that, then what must he have thought of her when they met?

Surely he must have thought she looked like just another hollow shell meandering through the streets, another actor on the stage without any face behind its mask. Ayano knows she did think of herself as that for a while. But then that raises another question. If he saw her as superficial, which she doesn’t doubt, why did he approach her? Or rather, what plan of his is it that requires a superficial schoolgirl to play a part in it? She feels fear seize her insides and creep up her spine, and imagines crushing it. Whatever he has in mind, she’ll at least try to put up a fight.

It occurs to Ayano that Akechi asked a question and she has kind of forgotten she was expected to reply.

“Sure, if you reason like that. Most of them don’t show any signs of individuality in their daily life. It’s not like their whole self is written on their forehead, or painted on their skin. But that’s exactly the point, isn’t it?” A pause; she watches Akechi’s expression, but he doesn’t look satisfied yet with her explanation. “You can’t expect to get an idea of someone’s character just with glimpses of what they may or may not project outwards. Appearances are just the tip of the iceberg, and sometimes you can’t even use that to guess what’s under the water.

“Think of it as… Here: in a movie, for example, there are actors behind the characters, right? Then imagine that behind every actor, there is also a soul. A person, with likes and dislikes, and aspects of their life that are not always related to the scene.”

“I see.” Akechi purses his lips, not looking as convinced as she hoped.

“Of course, it’s kind of hypocritical of me to say that when just a couple hours ago, I was still not aware my clubmate had a life outside of the club.” She laughs.

Something lights up in his eyes, and she’s all ears when he opens his mouth again to speak.

“That goes for you too, right?” He pauses, tries to find his words. “Outside of… acting, you have tastes, opinions, dreams. Don’t you?”

“I suppose I do?”

“I feel like I don’t know as much as I should about you, even though we’re a couple.”

“Yeah, that’s because you didn’t really take your time getting to know me,” she reminds him, a little bitter. He makes a guilty face at that. “But in your defense, I don’t think I had much to tell you back then.”

“What about now?”

“I don’t know. I’m kind of a work in progress.” She chuckles, then brings fingers to her lips, silent in thought, and lowers her voice. “But you may have a point, actually. Talking with you might help me figure out some things.”

He smiles. “Good.”

A warning light goes off and thoughts fuse in her head. He could be fishing for info to use in his schemes. Maybe she’s inadvertently digging her grave every time she opens her mouth. She keeps lowering her guard, doesn’t she?

Yet at the same time, she thinks maybe she’s taking it a little too far, seeing evil in everything he says or does. Since when did a sneaking suspicion turn into a certitude? Sure, there are no feelings between them and their relationship is a charade. He might have made her his princess to tenderize his subjects. But that doesn’t necessarily means they can’t share a genuine camaraderie.

Of course, the easiest way to get an answer would be to ask him directly, instead of endlessly swirling the question around her head. But she has a feeling he wouldn’t be honest about it no matter how she approached the issue, and perhaps—though she wouldn’t admit it—she’s a little scared of what he’d say.

“Well then, we may as well start working on that now, don’t you think?” Akechi says.

“Working on what?”

“Using my peerless conversational skills to take you on a journey of self-discovery and spiritual growth and hopefully lead you to an epiphany concerning your identity and personality.”

Ayano snorts, eliciting a grin from the boy at her side. There is a comfortable pause before he resumes talking.

“So far, I’ve learned of your interest in theater, but I know neither the how nor the why. Care to enlighten me?”

“The how? You mean how I got into it?” He nods, so she continues. “My father introduced me to it and I found it fun. I dropped it for a while when I started kind of having a grudge against my father, then got to junior high school and had to pick a club. I wasn’t really enthused at the idea, but I picked the drama club anyways.”

“So you really picked it by default?” Akechi says, surprise apparent in his expression. “When you told me that, I could hardly imagine anyone choosing drama by default.”

“Aside from reading, it was pretty much the only thing I was… acquainted with. And I felt like acting practice would be more useful in day-to-day life.”

His gaze is intense as it bores into her skull. After maintaining eye contact for a few seconds, Ayano can’t help but avert her eyes, but not before taking note of how pretty his own eyes are.

“So you didn’t really enjoy theater at that time? But you do now, right?”

“After getting back into it properly, I did start to enjoy it again. I told myself it was just disinterested enjoyment, though. You know, like a scientist dissecting an animal?” Akechi doesn’t look like he knows. “I wasn’t having fun—or at least I told myself that—but rather I saw it as a fruitful exercise. Instead of animals, I’d dissect plays, the texts and the performances, the writing and the acting. What emotions the actors emulated, and how they did it; how emotions were suggested in the original text.”

“So you focused on the emotional aspect?”

“Well, it is kind of a main point in theater, or acting in general, isn’t it? It’s a big part of the performance. But I also found timing important to work on. Perfect timing in your delivery of a line, or in a gesture, really does a lot to improve an actor’s performance. But it’s quite a lot of work, and I still find myself having some trouble keeping a part of my brain running backseat analyses while I’m acting.”

Akechi looks really into the conversation, strangely. “Ah, yes, I imagine it can be quite difficult. But I’m sure you’ll get used to it.” Realization translates onto his features. “Oh, but perhaps you want to leave theater behind you after you graduate… You did say you were thinking of studying psychology, didn’t you?”

Ayano hums. “I don’t really know anymore. I’m still trying to make up my mind.”

“You know,” he starts, “I think I’d like to see you perform at least once before we graduate.”

“O—oh, well I’m flattered. But really, it’s nothing special. It’s not like I’m a professional actor or a prodigy or whatever.”

“Still, I’m curious to see what you look like on stage. You do seem to work very hard in your practice, after all.”

“I’d like to think I’m not half bad, compared to your average high school student. But I don’t know if it’d be worth your time.” She laughs nervously.

“I insist.”

Another brief moment of silence. “Wait, you’re serious about it?”

“Of course. I wouldn’t have brought it up if I weren’t.”

“Um, well, there is our school’s cultural festival. The drama club performs there every year.”

His eyes light up. “Oh, that’s right! Do you already know what you’re going to play there?”

“Yeah, we’ve started preparing things last week. We’ll be playing Shakespeare’s _Midsummer Night’s Dream._ ”

Akechi hums. “I don’t think I’ve heard of this one before.”

“It’s a light-hearted fantastical comedy involving a love square, fairies using love elixirs and screwing everything up, and a stupidly desperate female character you may want to slap.”

“Do you know which character you’ll be playing?”

“No, we haven’t attributed any roles yet. We’re still trying to figure out how to fill in our ranks for the play because eleven actors doesn’t quite cut it.”

He thinks a little. “If I had more free time, I might have volunteered to help, but with my work…”

“I know. We’ll manage, don’t worry. Although now that you mention it, I think I would have liked to see how you fare on a stage.”

“With your guidance, I’d like to think I could present something passable, at least at high school level.”

“Flatterer.” Ayano giggles.

The conversation dies down and a now perfectly comfortable silence permeates the air between the two, disturbed only by the distant voices of the people around them and by the rolling of the waves. Looking at the sea, Ayano finds herself itching for some water around her feet. After all, they’re at the beach, and she thinks it’d be a waste if she didn’t at least dip one toe.

Of course, Akechi notices. “Do you want to go into the water?”

“Yeah. I mean, we’ve been here for three, four days now, and I still haven’t stepped foot in the water. How dumb is that?”

“It’s the same for me. Come on.”

They walk to the waves licking at the sand. Ayano stands still on the shore for a moment, shifting her weight from foot to foot, feeling herself sink a little into the wet sand. It feels nice, she thinks. Checking on Akechi, she finds him looking down at the waves washing past his calves. He looks back at her expectantly, and she joins him.

“Are you not going any further?” he asks, looking a little sheepish.

Ayano feels a little warmth creep up her face. “What about you?”

“I’d rather not risking getting water on my hoodie. I’m carrying my phone in there.”

“Fair enough.”

A pause. He raises an eyebrow.

“A—ah, it’s the same thing for me,” Ayano stammers. “I’d rather not get my sarong wet. Or my phone, for that matter.”

“I could carry your phone as well, if you’d like,” he offers, and his eyes fall to the ruffled shoulder straps of her bikini, peeking out from under the sarong tied around her chest. “And you could remove your sarong if you wanted to go further. You are wearing a swimsuit underneath, aren’t you?”

“Who’s trying to undress the other now?” she says, pointing an accusative finger at him.

She’s not sure, but she thinks Akechi flushes a little at that. “I’m… What? No!” He brings a hand to his face and rubs his temples. “L—look, do whatever you like, it’s not my problem.”

_He’s… flustered?_

Ayano considers the possibility for a moment before she concludes it’s silly of her to even entertain that idea a second. She shakes her head in dismissal of these thoughts. “You’re right,” she chuckles. “I’m being silly.”

If any of the other Kosei boys—and probably also the girls, with their judgmental stares—were present, Ayano would have been adamant about keeping the sarong on. But with Akechi? Surely he won’t think anything at all about her looks.

(Which is, in itself, a little depressing to her, but she doesn’t dwell on the feeling.)

So she hands him her phone, which he slides in his front pocket, and one-handedly unties her sarong’s knot. She picks and pulls a little at the fabric beneath to readjust it, then looks back at Akechi to gauge his reaction, if he’s even having any.

He looks her square in the eyes and holds a hand out. “Would you like me to hold that for you?”

“Well, since you’re offering.” She hands him her sarong; he considers it a moment, then ties it around his own waist to free his hands.

Ayano brushes fingers through her hair, ridding it of any tangles, before she turns to the sea and steps out. She can’t help but feel exposed, not being used to wearing anything skimpier than the school swimsuit; but then again, she tells herself, it is the whole point of a bikini. After walking a few feet, to the point where the waves reach her thighs, she turns around to check on Akechi again.

There is eye contact between the two for a brief moment, before he pulls on his hood and averts his gaze, coughing in his fist.

Eh. She’ll blame it on hormones.

She stumbles forward suddenly with a yelp, thrown off-balance by a wave she didn’t see coming. Fortunately she manages to avoid faceplanting into the water, thus saving the remaining scraps of her dignity.

In front of her, Akechi is chuckling deviously. Seeing that, she can’t help but break into a grin and giggle.

The rest of their time together is spent loitering around the beach while Ayano waits to dry again, which proves a little difficult now that the sun is gone; but on the other hand, it does prolong their time together. It occurs to her that since he came over at her parents’ place, she’s felt much more relaxed in his presence—and him in hers, she thinks. Maybe he did mean what he said at the park after all.

When she’s finally back in her hotel room, she collapses on her bed with a heavy sigh. Kyoko is lying on the one next to hers, swinging her legs in the air.

“So, how did it go?” she asks in a sing-song voice, because why wouldn’t she?

“It went well.”

A short pause while Kyoko figures out how to be the most annoying.

“So, that boy,” she begins. “Is it your boyfriend? Are you dating yet?”

Ayano wonders how she’s supposed to answer that. What would Akechi want her to say? There’s no way she could figure it out if she just told Kyoko she was dating the mysterious boy, is there? Then again, the leaked picture is still out there. And if her family could recognize her, her newly-made friends might be able to as well.

On second thought, she thinks it doesn’t matter anyways. Whether she says they’re official or not, it’ll be the same things to Kyoko and the others.

“Yes,” Ayano says.

Kyoko squeals. “Who is it?”

“I told you before, that’s a secret.”

“But why?” she whines, dragging out the vowel.

“Because it’s confidential. If I tell you, the FBI will storm the hotel and subdue me, and you, and everyone else.”

Kyoko groans in frustration. “Can’t you at least tell me what year he’s in? Surely that’s fine?”

“Absolutely not.”

She pouts and buries her face in her pillow, letting out another dejected groan that comes out distorted and muted by the pillow, but she leaves it at that. Looking at the petite girl beside her, Ayano smiles, tired and content. This is what her past mistakes have led her to, she thinks, and finds she doesn’t feel so lonely anymore.


	14. deer in the headlights (The Hanged Man)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ayano comes to a realization that might have been overdue.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You know what else was long overdue? This chapter lol I'M SO SORRY  
>  Ayano be [like](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xpr1Ae-_Of8)   
>  Something fun to think about: I showed Ayano's design and backstory on my class' Discord server. So, hypothetically, some of my peers from uni could be reading this.  
>  :))

The following weeks are… interesting, to say the least.

Thanks to Ayano’s diligent making of her rankings for the play’s cast, the major character roles are quickly attributed to the members of the drama club. In the meantime, as volunteers for the remaining roles manifest themselves, they start showing up at club practice to get advice or ask some questions. It just so happens that these volunteers include Kyoko, who was given the role of “a Fairy, in the service of Titania.”

She immediately runs to Ayano for help and quickly discovers that she is a ruthless instructor.

Despite being an amateur herself, it takes a lot to satisfy Ayano, so little Kyoko has to go through a dozen repetitions of the same sixteen lines, as her mentor constantly finds something to nag about; a lack of expression, or a necessity to focus more on the rhythm, the musicality of each line, or the pacing being off, or messing up the punctuation of a sentence. But despite all her criticism, Ayano has to commend Kyoko’s hardworking attitude, focus, and will to improve. It’s especially admirable, she thinks, coming from someone who has never really dabbled in theater before, and she is truly grateful that Kyoko would want to volunteer in the first place.

September ends. Around her, day after day, Ayano hears cries of excitement, of curiosity; students leaning towards one another, showing their screens to friends, buzzing happily. They’ve stopped caring about Akechi for the most part, instead redirecting their attention to the fabled Phantom Thieves, those mysterious vigilantes taking the country by storm.

Ayano hasn’t been following the news lately and still isn’t sure what the deal is with these guys, but the ever-informed Kyoko is always there to keep her up-to-date. She shows her the “Phan-site”, the requests to change hearts, and the polls that have everyone talking, betting on who’s next. What she initially perceived in her fellow students as curiosity now appears to her as borderline perverted fascination. And the website? She wouldn’t quite know how to explain the feeling, but to her, it all comes off as… disgustingly commercial. Industrial, even. Far from what she thought was idealized justice. And seeing her peers glued to their phones, hanging on to the Thieves’ every action, makes a little contempt prickle at Ayano’s skin.

Then the second week of October rolls in, and the news turn unexpectedly grim.

She hears the CEO of Big Bang Burger died— _live_ —during a press conference. “Mental shutdown,” they say, and Ayano’s not sure what that means, but they talk of violent tremors, of black liquid oozing from the mouth, the eyes, the nose; of the eyes rolling back into their orbits and color draining from the face, and then—death. Others are passing phones around, eyes riveted to the gruesome scene; Ayano can’t bring herself to watch it even once.

All of a sudden, the Phantom Thieves devolve, from idols and back into filthy criminals; Akechi reassumes his role as a hero, takes back his place on his pedestal in the public’s heart, and the change is so brutal it feels kind of wrong.

A few days later.

It comes off as a little surprise, what with the renewed attention towards the Detective Prince and the mountain of work she assumes Akechi must have with this recent death—murder?—but as she sits in her dorm scribbling away at a notebook, her phone vibrates next to her, coming to life with a call from him. Ayano gently sets her pen down to answer the call.

“Akechi-san, hello.”

_“Good evening, Ayano-san. How are you doing?”_

“I’m fine. What about you? Are you still alive?”

_“As a matter of fact, I am. You won’t get rid of me that easily.”_ A short pause. _“But yeah, it’s been a tiring week. I just… can’t make sense of these mental shutdown cases.”_ He does sound tired, unsurprisingly.

“I don’t envy you... So, what’s got you calling?”

_“I have some free time next weekend and I think I would like spending it with you. Would you come with me to Kichijoji on the 22 nd?”_

Ayano’s mind is already doing gymnastics, trying to figure out how the hell she’ll get there by train. Kichijoji is definitely not on her line. “I’d be happy to. What do you have in mind this time?”

_“I was thinking of taking you out to play billiards, if you’d like.”_

“I’ve never played before. Is that okay?”

_“Naturally. I’ll be happy to teach you.”_

Ayano giggles happily. “Great, because I’d love to learn. Meet up at Kichijoji Station then? What time?”

_“How about 5 pm? Will that be alright?”_

“Yes, it’s perfect! I look forward to it.”

_“That’s great to hear. I do as well.”_ She thinks he smiles and this time she doesn’t doubt it. _“Well then, I’ll see you next Saturday.”_

“See you.”

(Ayano’s school work is quickly forgotten as she jumps out of her chair and already begins planning for their outing, down to the very outfit she wants to wear.)

What is only a week feels like a month, and for all the glaring Ayano’s clock is subjected to during that week, time doesn’t decide to accommodate her childish impatience by hurrying the fuck up. But the day comes eventually, and Ayano joyfully throws herself on her way to the station. That joy is a little diminished by the train ride—half an hour to get to Kichijoji, and she has to switch lines _twice_ —but she endures it, because she doesn’t have a choice anyways. Needless to say, she’s quite early when she gets there and has to wait some more, and standing still becomes harder by the minute as the excitement gets to her. _I’m going to learn billiards. Akechi is going to teach me billiards._

Billiards is a sport that, for a lot of people, carries a certain image with it. Snazzy folk circling the baize table, a drink in hand for some, a cue for others; the dim lighting of a bar in the evening, smooth jazz playing in the background. It gives you a level of cool just playing it. It’s a gentleman’s sport.

Ayano wonders if Akechi learned to play the game just to look cool too. It wouldn’t surprise her.

Her phone vibrates with a text from Akechi announcing his train’s arrival, and a minute later she spots him making his way through the station, looking around him in what she assumes and hopes is an attempt to locate her. She waves to help him and he finally joins her.

“Good day, Ayano-san.”

She grins. “Hey! How are you?”

“I’m good,” he replies. “The perspective of seeing you today alleviated some of my stress already, but now that you’re actually here, I feel even better. What about you?”

“I’m good too,” she squeaks out, cheeks flushing with his reply. She thinks it’s praise? or his way of thanking her? “Excited for billiards.”

“Not to see me?” He fakes disappointment.

“Nope, not at all. Not even one bit. Really just here for billiards.” She tries to convince herself it’s true and fails lamentably. _Well, alright then._

Akechi winces. “Ouch, my pride...”

Ayano does an evil laugh, hoping it hides just how much she actually looked forward to today as well.

“By the way, you look really good today too. Burgundy also suits you well.”

She takes a deep breath, willing herself not to stutter despite the compliment’s wretched effect on her. “Hm. Don’t hope to soften me with that, I will have no mercy on you. But thank you.”

Akechi chuckles. “Well, let’s go.”

_Penguin Sniper_ , as the place is called, isn’t very far from Kichijoji Station. As they enter—Akechi holding the door open for her, of course—Ayano takes in the atmosphere of the lounge, not quite what she expected of a place where you play billiards. Save for the two billiards tables and the darts machines, it’s just like any other bar, filled with adults and teens alike. It feels much more casual, which is relaxing to her in a way and at least doesn’t make her feel like a fish out of the water.

“It seems we’ll have to wait for a table to play,” Akechi says. “Would you like something to drink in the meantime?”

Ayano kind of panics as she wonders what to order. “Um… I’ll get a coke? I guess?”

“I’ll be right back.”

He leaves her there and in waiting, she sits on a stool and peers at the street below. Grappling for a distraction, her eyes latch on passersby, noting the progressive transition to fall fashion, the slow surfacing of sweaters and scarves. They would likely have a few more warm days before the end of the month, and then the autumn colors would roll in at last, signifying the time for her yearly stroll in the park.

Akechi comes back fairly quickly, setting her drink down in front of her. “Thanks,” she mutters with a quick smile, turning her attention away from the window.

“You’re welcome.” He sits by her side, holding his lemonade. “How are things progressing with the drama club?”

“It’s going well, actually.” Ayano smiles, happy that he’d bother to ask. “We’re nearly done with everything, just going through that last rush before the festival. I honestly can’t wrap my mind around the fact that it’s in two weeks.”

“Are you stressed?” He takes a sip of his drink, looking straight at her.

“Not yet. Give me a week and it’ll start.” She chuckles.

“Really? I never pictured you as the kind who gets nervous before performances. I’m not sure why… I thought you seemed rather confident when it comes to theater.”

“Oh, I am—just not the days before a performance. I start worrying about disappointing the audience, and not being the best I can… You know, dumb little things.”

“Ah, I see. I understand the feeling.”

Ayano smiles knowingly and drinks her coke.

Akechi glances at the billiards tables. “I wanted to discuss something work-related with you. Would that be okay with you?”

“Is it that CEO’s death?”

He gives her a faint smile, his features tired. “Yeah. Have you been following the news?”

“Not closely, but with everyone at school talking about it, I think I heard the gist of it.”

“Surely you’ve heard about the polls’ results on the Phantom Thieves’ website. People are accusing the Thieves of murdering Okumura somehow. With what we know, it’s only natural they’d come to this conclusion… but what do you think?”

Ayano almost asks him why he wants her opinion, but on second thought she gets a few ideas. He might be looking for her to reaffirm his own hypothesis, just as he might be questioning her as a suspect. Either is fine.

“I would find it strange that self-proclaimed heroes of justice, who pride themselves in their supposedly peaceful methods, would suddenly resort to murder, but it’s not impossible. Noble hearts and pure intentions aren’t immune to corruption and perversion; their fame could have gotten to their heads and led them to a darker path… But there are other possibilities. I don’t know how this change of heart business works, but couldn’t it have been an accident?” She pauses, racking her brains for other explanations. “Or… or maybe it was a murder, but perpetrated by an entirely different party?”

Akechi watches her silently, a little smile on his lips. “Fascinating… the masses have all jumped to their conclusion without the shadow of a doubt, but here you are considering all possibilities.”

Something in his words prods at her mind and she feels like she’s missing an important detail. A hand rises to her chin absent-mindedly as she chases a revelation; a minute later, it comes to her. She pulls out her phone and opens her browser, typing search after search. None of her queries seem to yield any result.

“Did you think of something suddenly?” Akechi asks her after a moment, curiosity obvious in the tone of his voice.

“Yeah, but… it’s a little far-fetched.”

“I’d be happy to hear your thoughts anyway, if you’d like to share them.”

Ayano searches for words. “It kind of dawned on me that I haven’t really seen or heard anyone trying to defend the Phantom Thieves since Okumura’s death. At first, when you said the masses all jumped to conclusion, I thought you were generalizing as a figure of speech, but then I wasn’t so sure it was only figurative. I tried doing a quick search on the net, but found no one trying to defend the Thieves, except that Phan-site’s moderator. And… I don’t know, it just seems a little odd.”

“Everyone is convinced they are murderers. Why would anyone try to defend them?”

“Well, that everyone is so convinced they are the perps is already strange in itself. But even if it were the case, I would have expected to find fans—fanatics—trying to justify their actions, or glorifying the murder. Some serial killers have amassed fan communities of their own before, sick as they may be.”

There is a moment of silence as Akechi just stares at her wordlessly, eyes wide in surprise as he processes the arguments.

“It’s just a feeling I got. I told you it was far-fetched.” Ayano laughs timidly.

The detective finally recovers speech. “No, it’s actually an interesting opinion—very interesting indeed. I hadn’t looked at the situation from this angle before. Thank you for your insight.”

Movement to the side draws their eyes to one of the billiards tables as the group previously playing makes to leave. Ayano exchanges a look with Akechi, the excitement already building back up at the prospect of finally hitting the baize. He nods, takes another sip of his drink, and pulls out his wallet unsuspectingly.

Ayano slaps his hand.

“Don’t even think about it,” she adds to clarify.

It’s not clear enough for him. “Think about what?”

“Paying the games. I kind of just realized you’ve been paying everything for the both of us so far, and that doesn’t sit well with me.”

Akechi smiles. “Don’t worry about it, I don’t mind at all.”

“You’re missing the point,” she huffs. “I do mind, and if you lay one more finger on that wallet, I will… I’ll stab you with the cue stick.”

He smirks in response, clearly unconvinced, but puts down the wallet anyways. “I doubt you actually have the strength required to stab me with a stick.”

“Doubt my strength all you want, I’ll make up for a lack of it in sheer willpower.”

Akechi stands up and guides Ayano to the table. She kneels down by the table, her own wallet in hand, and slips a coin in the money slot. A loud clunk is heard, followed by the rolling of balls, and she yelps and starts at the sudden sound. Her reaction earns her a chuckle from him which she promptly answers with a glare as she gets up.

“Willpower, you say?” he asks, a playful lilt in his voice, as he retrieves the balls and puts them on the table.

“Yup. I have enough of it to lift a car and crush you with it, if that’s what it takes to stop you from paying everything for me.”

Akechi laughs. She’s not sure why, and by the confused look on his face, he probably doesn’t know why either, but he laughs. It’s short but sweet and brings a smile to Ayano’s lips.

She watches him set the balls into a diamond using only his hands as a rack. Idly smiling, he grabs a cue stick and brings the cue ball to the head of the table, then nods, apparently satisfied with his setup. Ayano observes him and takes note of each of his actions silently, only intervening when he picks up the blue chalk and applies it to the end of his stick.

“That’s chalk, isn’t it?” Ayano says. “What’s it for?”

“It allows for more friction between the cue stick and the balls,” Akechi explains. “Over time, the end of your cue wears out and becomes smooth as you use it, which can mess with your shots, so we chalk the tip to counter that.”

“I see.”

He hands her the second cue stick and she applies chalk to its tip, following his example.

“Alright, I’ll explain the rules,” Akechi begins. “We’ll be playing nine-ball. The goal is to sink all the balls in numerical order, and you win if you’re the one to sink the ninth ball. We play in turns, and your turn ends when you fail to sink a ball or commit a foul.” He takes a moment to list different kinds of fouls in nine-ball, then pauses to let her digest the information. “I’ll explain other rules as we play. Straightforward, is it not?”

Ayano nods. “Yeah.”

“Are you ready to start then?”

“Yes, sensei.” She giggles.

“In that case, would you like to have the first shot?”

“What do I have to do?”

“Break rules can vary, but since you’re a novice, we’ll keep it simple. Your goal is simply to hit the 1-ball and try to sink any numbered ball. If you do, you keep playing; otherwise your turn ends. Got it?”

“Got it.”

Ayano walks to the head of the table, cue in hand, and then stops. She fiddles a little with the stick, nails tapping on the polished wood, and stills again.

“I’m not sure how to…” She waves her hands around, and somehow Akechi seems to understand what she means.

“Right, I’ll show you how to position yourself.” He smiles. “Just follow my example, alright?”

Akechi walks to where she stands and leans on the table, laying his right hand on it. She tries her best to lean at the exact same angle.

“First off, you hold the cue stick at around hip level using your dominant hand.”

“Like this?”

“Yes. Oh, but don’t hold it so close to the middle like this. Bring your hand a little further down…”

He reaches out, hesitates a little, then guides Ayano’s right hand to the desired area on the stick. His bare hands are soft and warm, and the contact makes her skin and guts tingle. The sensation is fast gone, however, as Akechi leans over the table again.

“Now, when it comes to hand positions, there are a few variations,” he says. “You may have seen people who curl their finger around the cue like this.” He demonstrates the position as he speaks, circling the cue stick with his thumb and index finger. “Others will prefer splaying their fingers and resting the cue between the thumb and the knuckle.”

Ayano lays her left hand on the baize, fingers splayed, and attempts to recreate the same pose. It’s not perfect though, and she turns to Akechi for help.

“Not quite,” he says, and presses her hand flat on the table again. “Here. Now try to only raise your index finger’s base knuckle. If it helps, you can imagine you’re a puppet and a string is pulling that one knuckle up.”

Truth be told, Ayano may have moved her hand wrong on purpose. She still feels the ghost of his hand on hers.

“A puppet on strings? That’s quite the interesting analogy there, Akechi-san.”

They exchange a look in silence. He smiles, but it looks a little tentative, uncertain. “I didn’t mean anything special by that.”

She grins. “I know. I’m messing with you.”

“I see.” He glances down at her hand. “Keep your index finger straight.”

“Oops.”

“Now raise your thumb and press it against your knuckle.” He shows her the desired position again and this time she copies it perfectly. Akechi nods, satisfied. “There you go. Now you can shoot for the break.”

He steps back to give Ayano room. She leans down, takes the time to get the hand position right, stays mindful of her grip on the cue stick.

“Try to lean a little lower. Eyes on the 1-ball.”

She follows his advice almost religiously, lining herself up with the table, and tunes out all the noise around her. Carefully aiming, she gives the cue a few experimental pumps to gauge her strength, then strikes the cue ball with force.

It rolls across the table, hits the 1-ball, and somewhat disturbs the other surrounding balls. Out of the corner of her eye, she sees Akechi cover his mouth.

“Well,” he says, and the tone makes it obvious he’s holding back a laugh. “I’m sure you have a lot of willpower.”

Ayano groans. “Fuck off.”

“Now, now, don’t be like that.” He walks to the foot of the table and gathers up the balls into a diamond shape again. “I’ll take care of the break shot. You won’t need to be that forceful outside of the break, so you’ll be fine.”

Akechi takes position and rolls the cue ball to the side, then leans down to aim. Ayano observes the way his hair falls from his shoulders, pulled by gravity; and how his russet eyes lock on to the ball, like a hawk’s gaze. She watches him as he strikes the cue ball confidently and scatters the numbered balls, sinking two of them in the process.

He straightens up and turns to Ayano. “Normally it would still be my turn, but since you were supposed to break it, we’ll pretend you did. I’ll coach you through your first game so you get the hang of it.”

Ayano can’t stop the smile that creeps on her lips. “Okay. I’m ready.”

Akechi begins by explaining the basics of aiming and predicting ball trajectory, and walks her through her first shot. When thanks to his help she sinks the 1-ball, she can’t help but grin like a child and do a fist pump. The second shot isn’t so straightforward, with no clear path between the cue ball and the 3-ball. Akechi instructs her on how to use the cushions to hit balls that appear unattainable at first. This time, she misses and the cue ball hits another one, but she shrugs it off and steps aside to let him have his turn. He actually goes through the trouble of explaining each of his shots to Ayano, something she is grateful for, and she watches him play with baited breath. He sinks the 3-ball she missed, then the 4-ball, the 5-ball, and finally misses his fourth shot.

“You could actually win this frame if you strike well,” he says as she circles the table. “You see, the rules force you to hit the lowest numbered ball on the table first, but that’s not to say you can’t use it to sink another ball with it. And look at the table…”

Ayano examines the position of the three remaining colored balls. “Oh! You mean the 9?”

“Precisely.” He gestures at the balls, drawing trajectories in the air with his hand. “If you aim to sink the 6-ball, there’s almost no way you’ll miss. It’s a safe shot. But you could also try aiming like this, so the 6-ball will hit the 9-ball here and send it in this pocket. It’s a little risk to take, but the payout is good if you aim well.”

_The problem lies in those four last words,_ Ayano thinks. But the risk is small, as Akechi said, and she has nothing to lose anyways. After all, she already lost her dignity in her failed break shot.

“I’ll take that risk,” she says, leaning down to take aim.

“Very well.” He moves a little, presumably to get a better view of the game. “Take your time aiming, don’t rush it.”

That she does. She takes almost a full minute to aim, move and aim again, never perfectly satisfied, but eventually she just strikes the cue ball and let it do its thing. It hits the 6-ball as planned, which hits the 9-ball as planned, except her aim must have been off by a little because the 9-ball hits the pocket point and stops at a painful two inches of the pocket. Ayano groans in frustration but smiles anyways, content with having gotten this close to victory.

“You were almost there.” He smiles with her, but it turns into a devious smirk. “Now all you can do is pray I foul and end my turn.”

Quite predictably, he doesn’t foul. In just a few seconds, he sinks the 6-ball and manages to get the cue ball rolling into the perfect position, then sinks the 7- and the 9-balls in one shot.

“Well done,” she congratulates him as they shake hands.

“You too. Shall we play another game? This time, I’ll let you play on your own.”

“I’d be happy to.”

Ayano slips another coin in the slot and this time she reacts a little better to the thundering sound of the balls being released. Akechi makes the diamond, then turns to her expectantly.

“Would you like to try breaking again?”

“No, thank you,” she says with a chuckle and takes a sip of her drink.

He gets into position, resting the cue on tense, lean fingers, and takes aim. There’s something elegant, graceful in the way he carries himself. Poised as he is right now, bent over the table and perfectly focused, Ayano finds him incredibly beautiful.

She’s thankful the clicking of the balls pulls her out of her rêverie before she’s caught staring.

The second game is spent trying to save face while Akechi absolutely destroys her. He sinks the balls one after the other, then misses a difficult shot, giving Ayano an opportunity to play. It’s an opportunity she gladly takes and immediately wastes by scratching the cue ball, allowing Akechi to resume wiping the baize clean with her.

“Another win for me,” he says with a cocky smirk as he pockets the 9-ball.

“Oh, wow, it’s such a surprise,” Ayano retorts, sarcasm dripping from her voice like tar. “No idea how that happened really, it’s not like I just learned how to play today.”

“I know.” Akechi chuckles. “To be honest, I ought to give you some credit. For someone who just started playing, you’re not doing too bad.”

“I don’t know how you drew that conclusion, considering you didn’t leave me many opportunities to demonstrate my ability. Not that there is much to demonstrate, of course.”

And now she’s rambling like a timid schoolgirl. Well.

“How about one last game? You can show me the best you’ve got.”

“You’re on, pretty boy.”

Ayano slides yet another coin in the pay-to-lose slot and the table rumbles. Akechi goes about setting up the rack, then stands aside.

“Maybe you should give the break shot a try,” he says. “You won’t learn if you don’t practice.”

“Fine, but if you make fun of me this time, I’m never playing with you again.”

He smiles. “I won’t, I promise. I can even give you tips and advice to help you improve.”

It takes her a few minutes to work up the courage to attempt the shot again, but thanks to his guidance, she does manage to make a playable break off this time. She gathers whatever remains of her ability to focus to make that last game worthwhile. As she passes him the cue after narrowly missing a shot, she notices he keeps glancing over his shoulder.

“Akechi-san?” He turns to her and hums. “Something wrong? You seem distracted.”

“Ah, I’m sorry! It’s nothing, just…”

He glances back again, then walks to where Ayano is standing and leans in, close enough that his breath grazes the skin of her ear.

“Seven o’clock, there’s a man who keeps staring at you.”

A chill runs down her spine, and she’s not sure it’s due to what he said rather than how he said it. Akechi steps away from her and resumes playing, leaving her to deal with the new revelation.

Ayano smoothes out her pleated skirt and chuckles. “That’s me, wearing a short skirt to play a sport that requires frequently bending down.”

A sound between coughing and choking draws her attention to Akechi, who strikes the cue ball at that precise moment and ends up completely missing his target. He mutters something like a curse under his breath and regains his composure immediately, but it’s too late. Ayano saw everything.

“I’ll be having that cue stick back, thank you,” she says with a grin, holding out her hand.

“Don’t get too cocky,” he retorts. “I haven’t lost yet.”

Unfortunately, that game too ends on a loss for Ayano, though she came pretty close to winning again. Missing her last shot left the cue ball in a good position for Akechi to sink the 9-ball, which he wasted no time doing. But even having been obliterated, she’s glad he gave her the opportunity to discover the game.

“As usual,” Ayano begins as they near the station, “I’ve got to thank you for giving me some of your time. And thank you for teaching me how to play nine-ball. I had a lot of fun.”

“I’m glad to hear you enjoyed yourself,” Akechi says with a smile. “I was a little worried you might not find the same appeal to the game as I do.”

“No, it’s really cool! A little technical, but very fun. I hope we can play again. I’d like to not lose all the time.”

“You’ll get there eventually,” he chuckles. “But I agree, we should do this again. I’ll tell you when I’m free.”

“I look forward to it.” Ayano grins.

They enter Kichijoji station and pass the gates. It’s time for them to go their separate ways again.

“Well, I’ll see you at your performance in two weeks.” Akechi winks. “Be well until then.”

“Right! You too, Akechi-san.”

With a little wave, she turns away from him and mingles with the other people waiting for their train. There’s a smile tugging oddly at her lips that she can’t control, and there’s a weight in her guts that won’t go away, yet she feels light as a plastic bag in the wind. As her first train finally arrives and she steps between its doors, her brain connects the dots like stars in a constellation before giving it a name.

“Love.”

_Gadzooks, I think I’m in love with Akechi-san._

She’s still a little out of it when she gets home that evening, still processing the realization and the weight it carries. She barely registers her mother greeting her and darts to her room, sitting down on her desk chair and remaining perfectly immobile for at least five minutes.

_Well, fuck._


End file.
